Twilight Reworked
by littlebabydaisy
Summary: My reimagining of Twilight, by Stephenie Meyer. I wrote this as an exercise in writing, reworking the character histories and development in an effort to create something that made more sense to me than the original book did, and changing "filler" chapters so they are plot-relevant. Please leave me feedback!
1. Preface & Chapter 1: First Sight

_But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil,_

_Thou shalt not eat of it:_

_For in the day that thou eatest thereof_

_Thou shalt surely die._

Genesis 2:17

PREFACE

I'd never given much thought to how I would die – though I'd had reason enough in the last few months – but even if I had, I would not have imagined it like this.

I stared without breathing, into the dark eyes of the hunter, and a hint of a smile crept onto his face.

Surely it was a good way to die, to do it for someone else, someone I loved. Some might call it noble, even. Did that count for nothing?

I knew that if I'd never gone to Forks, I wouldn't be facing death now. But, terrified though I was, I couldn't bring myself to regret it. When life offers you possibility so far beyond any of your expectations, it's not reasonable to lose sight of the risk; to be angry when it comes to an end.

The hunter stood over me, the pleasant smile still in place. He flowed forward to kill me.

FIRST SIGHT

My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix. The sky was a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favorite shirt – sleeveless, white eyelet lace – as a farewell gesture. I'd packed my parka in the carry-on.

Forks. A small town in the Olympic Peninsula in the northwest of Washington State. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was the town my mother fled from, with me in tow, when I was only a few months old. It was the town I'd been compelled to spend a month in every summer, until I was fourteen. Even still the gloomy, seemingly endless cover of clouds comes to mind when I think of Forks, though it means something different to me now. It's strange now to think of the fact that there was a time, between my eighth grade summer and this year, where I refused to come back to Forks, forcing my father Charlie to come south to visit me.

Yet it was to Forks that I exiled myself, an action I took with great horror.

I detested Forks; for its weather, its geography, and most of all for its isolation. I hadn't been there for longer than a few weeks at a time since I was three months old. I didn't know the people there, I didn't have friends there – except for the few that I'd played with when I was still little, and those sorts of friends didn't count – and every year that I visited I desperately missed my friends from home.

Phoenix, on the other hand, I loved. I loved the sun and the blistering heat. I loved the vigorous, sprawling city. It was what home felt like, the spirit I'd come to think of as intrinsic to my life. It was everything familiar and constant for my seventeen years. I couldn't imagine what living in Forks –lonely, soggy, grey Forks – would be like.

"Bella," my mother said to me – the last thing she said – before I got on my plane. "You don't have to do this."

My mom looks like me, except that her finely-textured brown hair is shorter than mine, and her dark eyes are framed with laugh lines. I felt a spasm of regret as I looked into her wide eyes. How could I leave my loving, hare-brained, tender mother to fend for herself? How could I hurt her by leaving? I pushed the thought away. She had Phil now, so the bills would get paid, there would be food in the pantry, fuel in her car, and someone to call up when she got lost on the road. Still, it was hard to let go of those feelings of responsibility after so many years.

"I want to go," I lied. I'd always been a bad liar, but I'd been saying this one so much lately that I didn't think my mother was looking to be convinced anymore. She just didn't know what else to say. She didn't know how to make it right to herself that I was really leaving.

"Tell Charlie I said hi."

"I will."

"I'll see you soon," she added as I looked toward the gate. The line through security was getting longer. "You can come home whenever you want. I'll come right back as soon as you need me."

I could see the intention behind the promise in her eyes, but I knew it would be far too steep a sacrifice for her if I tried to take her up on it.

"Don't worry about me," I said. "It'll be great. Mom… I love you."

She hugged me tightly for a minute, and then I left.

...

It's a four hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive to Forks. A lot of people get nervous before they fly, but air safety was not the reason I was worried. I was worried about the hour in the car with my dad.

Dad had really been nice about the whole thing. He seemed genuinely pleased that I was coming to live with him. I hadn't even been to his house in over three years, but so far he hadn't seemed concerned with the 'why' behind it. He'd just been excited at the idea of me coming to see him with any degree of permanence. He'd already gotten me registered for high school, and had promised to help me get a car.

But I knew enough about my father to know that it was sure to be awkward once I got there. Neither of us was much good for talking, and even if we were, I didn't know what there was to say. I knew he was bound to be confused by my decision – like my mother, I'd never kept my distaste for the rainy town a secret – and it would be easier to broach the subject when I was confined with him in the car. I'd avoided the topic entirely until now, trying not to upset him with talk about Phil, but eventually it would come out.

My father met me at the luggage claim, holding a metallic green balloon on the end of a ribbon. It floated meekly in the fluorescent sheen of the terminal. Bright yellow letters read, 'WELCOME HOME!'

I was embarrassed, but I shot my father a smile. I walked forward to hug him and saw that his hair and jacket were sprinkled with water. Of course it was raining.

Usually I'd roll my eyes at someone who talked about omens, but this time I found myself thinking that the rain in Dad's hair was a sign. The universe was telling me to say goodbye to the sun.

We walked to the parking lot together, and I spotted the police cruiser. I'd expected it, but it still gave me a little thrill to climb into the passenger seat. My dad's known as Police Chief Charlie Swan to most of the people living in Forks. One of the only things I'd missed about Forks was the cruiser; I couldn't tell you how many times, during the summers I spent there growing up, my father indulgently blared the siren for me. However, like most things in life it was a double-edged sword. The excitement of a 'siren-ride' (as I'd called it when I was little) was heavily countered by the fact that when the siren was off, nothing slowed traffic down like a police vehicle. That's why I'd made the agreement with my dad to get a car of my own once I got there.

Dad gave me an awkward, one-armed hug before we got into the car. "It really is good to see you, Bells." He said, smiling. "You haven't changed much. How's Renee?"

"Mom's fine. It's good to see you, too, Dad." The last time we'd visited, frustrated with his over-protectiveness, I'd spent our entire vacation calling him by his first name. He'd hated it, which made that visit even tenser than they usually were. Now, unsure of myself in this scary new situation, I took comfort in knowing that he was Dad. He would look out for me if I needed it.

He smiled at me, and I knew he was remembering our last visit, too. I supposed it couldn't hurt that he was already feeling more hopeful about our immediate future together, and he helped me pack my few bags into the car.

I didn't bring much. Most of my Arizona clothes weren't heavy enough for Washington. My mom and I had pooled our resources to get a good, practical addition to my winter wardrobe, but we didn't have much to spend. All my belongings fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser. It was strange, seeing my whole life in the back of that car.

"I found a good car for you, really cheap." He announced when we were strapped in.

"What kind of car?" I asked, suspicious. Although my dad didn't say much, he had a surprisingly diplomatic side. He knew how to say things in the way you'd want to hear them. He might mean that he found a good car for a reasonable price, or he might mean that he found a good car _for me_, also known as a 'fixer upper'.

"Well, it's a truck, actually. A Chevy."

"Where'd you find it?"

"Do you remember Billy Black, my buddy down at La Push?"

It took me a moment to place the name, but within a few seconds I remembered that La Push was the tiny Indian reservation on the coast.

"I don't think I do," I admitted. It had been several years, after all, and I'd only ever been there for short periods before that.

"He used to go fishing with us, remember?" Dad said, looking over at me.

That was why I didn't remember. I found fishing to be a painful, unnecessary ordeal. When I was younger my father had usually been able to convince me to join him. He'd say 'you always say no, but then we have a good time.' Each time, '_we_ have a good time'. When I was still little I got it in my head that my father might be lonely. I always felt too guilty to refuse when he suggested it, thinking of him on the water alone. He'd spend most of the day enjoying the water with his fishing buddies, and I'd spend it imagining I was somewhere else. I didn't remember much from those trips. When I was old enough to notice that there was always at least one fishing buddy with us, I found the resolve to stop going with him.

"Billy's in a wheelchair now. Diabetes." Charlie continued when I didn't respond. "He can't drive anymore, and he offered us the truck."

I wanted to ask more about Dad's friend, but I wasn't sure if it was the sort of thing he'd be comfortable talking about with me. "What year is it?" I said instead. I could see from the change in his expression that he'd been hoping I wouldn't ask.

"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine, so really it's only a few years old."

I knew a dodged question when I heard one, but I wasn't going to give up so easily. "When did he buy it?" I clarified.

"I think he got it in 1984."

"Did he buy it new?"

"Well…"

"Dad!"

"I think it was new in the early sixties – " he admitted sheepishly. "Or late fifties, at the very earliest."

"Dad, I don't know anything about cars. If something went wrong, I don't know if I could fix it. Until I get a job I can't afford a mechanic…"

"You're going to get a job?" My father said, trying to throw me off my line of questioning.

"I have to pay for gas somehow." I said firmly. "But I'm serious, Dad. I don't know if I'll be able to take care of such an old car,"

"It's vintage." My dad said, as if the word alone made the car reliable. "The thing runs great, they don't build machines like that anymore."

_The thing,_ I thought to myself. That would probably turn into a nickname.

"Well, how cheap is 'cheap'?" I asked. That was one thing that I didn't have much flexibility over. I only had so much to spend.

"Honey, I already bought it for you." Dad shot me a hopeful expression. "As a homecoming gift."

Wow. A gift. Though it was so generous, I still felt denial at the concept that Forks could ever be my home. I covered my immediate reaction to protect my father's feelings.

"You didn't need to do that, Dad. I was going to pay for it myself."

"I don't mind!" He said quickly. "I want you to be happy here." He'd always had trouble expressing his emotions out loud, something I inherited from him. As if talking to himself, he'd shared his affection for me while staring straight ahead at the road. I did the same.

"That's really nice, Dad. Thanks. Really." I was still cynical of how I would fare in Forks, but every effort helped. I was touched by how badly my dad wanted me to be happy, and I didn't need him to struggle through the assimilation process with me. It was a big gift to accept, though. Most of my life I'd been shown that it's more honorable to graciously refuse such a big present, but Charlie Swan was my father. Even though our relationship was distant, I was pretty sure it wasn't greedy to accept a car from my dad. And it seemed as though this was something Dad needed partly for himself; to make it feel more like I was there to stay. I didn't want to hurt his feelings by refusing, even if the car turned out to be a lemon.

"You're welcome." He said gruffly, embarrassed by my thanks.

The rest of the drive was uneventful. I've always found it rather hard to make small talk, and unfortunately, that's all I knew to do. My dad isn't a total stranger to me, really, but I only see him a few weeks a year, and we're both pretty close-mouthed. It's hard for two people to get to know each other when neither of them says much. I didn't know what he really enjoyed talking about, and I was consumed with my own thoughts about Forks.

We stared out the windows in silence.

I don't know if it was just an abnormally pleasant day, or if my mind was just trying to see the glass as half-full, but for whatever reason I was surprised at how beautiful everything looked. Everything was green: the tree trunks covered in damp moss, the leaves dark and dripping softly, the ferns spread across the earth. Even the air seemed tinted green by the surroundings. We were surrounded by the earth in its natural state, unsullied. Years ago I saw it as an alien planet – certainly alien to a city girl like me – but now it seemed different. It seemed like a place where magic lived.

The world began to show signs of civilization as we got closer to Dad's place. He still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he'd bought with my mother when they were newlyweds. As we approached the house from the back, I was caught up at how it looked exactly the same. But once we rounded the corner I saw it. My truck. It was faded red, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. There was an obvious dent in the hood and a shining place in the passenger door, where the paint had been scraped off by another vehicle, or maybe a pole.

I loved it.

I didn't know if it would run, but I would do whatever it took. From the moment I laid eyes on it, I could see myself driving it. Who cared what other people thought? It was beautiful in its own way – in the way that somehow makes your memories stir – and it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged. It looked sturdy. It _looked_ reliable.

"Dad," I breathed, suddenly wishing I knew how to properly thank him. "I love it. Thank you."

Falling in love makes the future seem so much brighter, and I was in love with that car. I knew already that driving myself to school the next day would be easy, surrounded by that indestructible beast of a vehicle, and I would have something to look forward to as I left class at the end of the day. I might not have anyone to talk to after school, but at least I could drive around in this old tank. What could be better?

"I'm glad you like it." My dad said, embarrassed again.

...

It only took us one trip to get all my things upstairs. I got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. The room was familiar, of course. I'd stayed there every time I'd visited since I was born. But I was surprised at how strange it felt, even so. It was full of the relics of my childhood, but I'd lived with my mother for my entire life. When I'd come here over the summers, it had always been temporary. It had never really felt like _my_ room. _My_ room was in Phoenix. This was my vacation house.

Charlie never changed it. There was a bed in the center of the room, but the crib I'd slept in as a baby still sat in front of the window. The desk against the wall had crayon marks on it from when I'd used it as a little kid, and there was a plastic army man still stuck to the corner where, five years ago, I had melted it with a magnifying glass and been unable to remove it.

My mother had insisted that my father install a computer in the house, so that we could stay in contact more easily. There was a secondhand monster of a machine on the top of the desk, a modem line stapled along the floor. I realized that the chair at the desk was the rocking chair my parents had used to put me to sleep when I was a baby.

One of the best things about my father is that he doesn't hover. I've never been able to figure out whether he knows when I want to be alone or if he just avoids interactions where he's uncomfortable, which include most of the ones involving me. He left me alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would be almost impossible for Mom. Since I was alone, I let a few tears escape. I already missed her. I didn't want to get into a real crying fit, though. I had a lot to get done before school in the coming day, and I could have a good cry later.

Forks High School had a total of only three hundred and fifty-seven students, before me. There were more than seven hundred people in just my class back home in Phoenix. On top of that, all the kids here had grown up together. Their parents had grown up together. Their grandparents had grown up together. I wasn't expecting much inclusion from them. Most of them would see me as the new girl, and those few that might remember me from summers when we were children would already know I hated Forks, so they probably wouldn't want to bother with me.

If I'd looked like a girl from the southwest should, maybe it would be easier. If I were tan, sporty, blonde… a volleyball player, or a cheerleader, or even a rodeo girl, maybe they would be friendly. I laughed at myself. _Yes, Bella. If you were a different person they might be friendly._

But I wasn't, I was myself. I was pale skinned. I freckled easily. I didn't have the fair colorings that usually complemented fair skin, no blue eyes or red hair to soften the look, instead dark hair and eyes that only set off my skin tone.

I was slender but physically weak, and it was clear I was no athlete. I didn't have the hand-eye coordination, balance, or strength to go through the day without knocking at least one thing over, much less play sports. I had tried. I'd tried to play volleyball for the school team, and was hopeless at it. I'd tried to learn ballet, and found ways to hurt myself during the classes, and always was placed in the back. I'd given up on anything involving coordination while I was still young.

I didn't like to go to dances or run for school office. I couldn't play an instrument or sing. I wasn't good at meeting people. I wasn't good at knowing what to say. Basically, I had no idea how to make new friends.

When I finished unpacking, I took a shower in the one small bathroom I was to be sharing with my father. I put my bath things in the small cubby my dad had always kept there for me, which had 'ISABELLA' on it in glittery stickers. The only thing in the cubby was a half-empty bottle of strawberry scented children's shampoo.

I looked at my face in the mirror as I brushed through my tangled, damp hair. Maybe it was just the light, but I thought I looked sallow, unhealthy. Did my skin really look like that? Stretched and pallid? It was as though I depended on Phoenix's sunshine to survive, and the life was being slowly eaten away in this dark place. I had no color here.

I suddenly missed my friends with a vile desperation. I'd had three friends back home. Amber, Maggie and Roy. If I'd been honest with myself, the four of us had never had all that much in common. But we'd all struggled to find a niche – even in a school of over three thousand – and we'd taken comfort in having someone to call when we were lonely or go out with when we were bored. When I'd told them I was moving, they'd had questions. They'd asked if my mother was moving, asked if I was running away, asked if my parents were forcing me. When I'd told them that it was my decision, they acted like I had betrayed them. Like I was abandoning them. They'd stopped talking to me weeks before the moving day had finally come, except for one text message from Maggie that morning. It had said nothing more than 'goodbye'.

If I couldn't fit in at my old school, ten times larger than Forks High School, how would I ever fit in here?

Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing something different through my eyes than the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. It would explain why I seemed to be unable to relate to people, even those my own age. Maybe it was just my problem.

But the cause didn't matter, I decided. The effect was the same. I just had to survive high school, and then… I didn't know what I'd do. I only knew it had to be better than this.

...

The sound of the rain kept me up until I was exhausted to tears. I'd already been on the brink of breaking down, as the reality of the move hit me hard, and the inability to fall to sleep made me feel that much more hopeless. When I'd cried my fill, I finally drifted off, though the sound of rain seemed to infiltrate my restless dreams.

In the morning, I woke to darkness. Thick fog pressed the windows, making the whole world feel claustrophobic. You could never see the sky, here. Even if the clouds didn't make you feel trapped, there was fog, rain, and trees to ensure that you never saw anything but what was right in front of your face.

Breakfast with my dad was a quiet event. He wasn't used to sharing his meals, at least not with family. He'd been an only child and his parents were dead, and I was almost certain he hadn't dated another woman since my mother had left him. I didn't mind, though. I wasn't in the mood to talk that morning. He wished me good luck at school, and I thanked him, though I knew not to expect much from my classmates.

He had to leave before I did, so I spent a few minutes in the kitchen. I always think of a kitchen as a family place – it's somewhere that many of my best memories are – but this one was different. I had memories with my dad here, but they weren't ones I thought of fondly. I knew he loved me, and I loved him too, but we saw so little of each other. And this kitchen. It was my kitchen now, even though it didn't feel that way. But maybe it would, if I tried.

It was a good kitchen; an old square oak table with three mismatched chairs sat in the center. Dark paneled walls held up bright yellow cabinets, and the white linoleum curled up in one corner. Nothing had changed in this room, either. My mom had painted those cabinets eighteen years ago. I think she was trying to bring sunshine into the house, but it was a futile effort. Now the paint was flaking in places. The kitchen was adjoined to the tiny family room, where the fireplace was. Photos of my parents' life together were still propped up on the ledge over the fireplace. My eyes stayed on my mom and dad's wedding photo in Las Vegas.

It was impossible to ignore that my dad had never gotten over my mom. It made me uncomfortable, but I felt sorry for him. Mom asked me once if I thought she should be worried that he was still in love with her, but I told her not to be. He'd never tried to stop her from leaving, he'd never tried to turn me against her, and he'd never been anything but polite about Phil.

I knew that I was needlessly upsetting myself before a day that was sure to be upsetting all on its own, so I forced myself to get up. It was time to go to school. I didn't want to be early, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I donned my jacket, which was too bulky for my comfort, and headed out into the drizzle that had started coming down.

I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves and put it on my ring. Now that I was here, my dad wouldn't need to keep his spare key where anyone could find it, because I could let him in if he got locked out. I made a mental note to tell him I'd taken the key.

In spite of the light rain, I felt a small burst of happiness at the sight of my truck. I barely noticed the damp hair that was clinging to my neck from the mist.

Inside the truck, it was warm and dry. Someone had obviously cleaned the interior up, but the tan upholstery still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. The engine started immediately, to my relief, but was very loud. It roared to life and idled out at top volume. It was a small flaw for such an old car, although it made listening to music difficult. To my surprise, the antique radio still worked.

Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I found myself wishing the drive were longer. The school was, like most things in this town, right off the highway. It wasn't obvious that it was a school, blending in with the dreary surroundings, and I nearly drove past it before I spotted the sign. It looked more like a collection of matching brick houses, with so many trees and shrubs that it was hard to see its size at first. I found myself missing the unlikeliest thing, the feel of the institution. There were no chain-link fences, no metal detectors. It didn't feel like any school I'd ever gone to.

I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading FRONT OFFICE. My heart was pounding, I was far more nervous than I'd expected. No one else was parked in front of the office, but I decided I would get directions inside instead of trying to find my classes in the rain. I stepped out of the truck, barely keeping my footing as I miscalculated the distance to the ground, and walked down a stone path lined with little hedges. I put my hand on the icy doorknob and took a deep breath.

I stepped into a brightly lit room, which filled me with warmth. The office was small, only a waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, and the usual bulletins and awards that every school office seemed to have. A woman sitting behind a long counter in the middle of the room looked up.

"Can I help you?"

"Isabella Swan. I'm new." I said. I saw a flash of recognition on her face. I was expected, of course, maybe even a topic of gossip in town. The Chief's daughter, raised by his flighty ex-wife, come to stay with him after refusing to so much as visit for three years. They may not have noticed my absence, but I guessed that they noticed their Chief was suddenly leaving town on vacation for weeks at a time every summer.

"Of course." She said. She dug through a precarious-looking stack of documents on her desk. She pulled a folder from a seemingly random position in the pile. "I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school."

After she handed them to me, she went through my schedule with me and highlighted on the map the best route to take for each class. She gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. As I turned to leave the office, she smiled at me and wished me good luck, just like Dad. I smiled as convincingly as I could. These two, at least, seemed to think I could be happy in Forks. I hoped they were right.

When I went back out to my truck, other students had started to arrive. I found my nervousness flaring back up, but was determined not to show it. I followed the flow of traffic around the school, glad to see that my car didn't seem to be attracting attention. Lots of students here were driving older cars, so it didn't stand out. At home I'd lived in one of the few lower-income neighborhoods in the Paradise Valley District. It was common to see Mercedes and Porsches in the student lot. The nicest car I could see here was a shiny Volvo, and rather than seeming fairly normal, it stuck out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot. My truck's appearance didn't attract attention, but its volume would if I left it long enough.

I tried to memorize the route to my first class. I didn't want to have to walk around with the map stuck in front of my nose all day, especially since I wasn't good at reading and walking at the same time. When I was satisfied that I'd remember it, I stuffed all my school things in my bag and stepped out of the truck.

I kept my hood up as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. I wanted to make friends, but I didn't know how. I was scared, and my first impulse was to avoid being noticed by anyone. I told myself it would be easier later, in class, when there would be only ten or twenty of them around me, instead of… everyone.

Building three came into view as I walked around the cafeteria, the number painted on a white square in one corner. I hadn't thought I could be more aware of my heartbeat, but as I propelled myself toward the building I began to feel overwhelmed. I made myself breathe evenly as I followed two people in raincoats through the door.

The classroom was small. I watched the two students in front of me as they hung their raincoats on pegs by the door, following their lead. They were two girls, a porcelain-skinned blonde and a pale brunette. At least my fair skin wouldn't seem so unusual here.

I walked up to the balding teacher, Mr. Mason. It surprised me when he seemed to recognize me, reaching out for my slip before I'd even pulled it from my bag. "The new student, right?" He asked. "They told me to expect one. Charlie Swan's daughter, aren't you?"

I flushed, nodding.

"You're shy, huh? Like father, like – well… daughter, I guess!" He smiled at me. I knew he was trying to be friendly, but for some reason his comment about my Dad had embarrassed me.

I forced a smile and he directed me to the empty desk at the back. That was a kindness, at least. It would be harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back. Still, somehow, they managed.

I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic, all things I'd read last year in my advanced placement class. That was somewhat comforting – I knew I could keep up with the other students in class, maybe even do better than them. But it was boring, too. I wondered if my mother would send my folder of essays from my old class, or if she'd think it was cheating. I didn't have much time to settle on a good argument in my defense before the teacher started class.

After the bell rang, I began to gather my belongings. A gangly boy with shaggy black hair leaned across the aisle to talk to me.

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?" He said, after waving off a few of his friends. Although he struck me as sort of geeky, he was obviously well-liked. He seemed like the sort of person who was so friendly that everyone liked him, even if he was a skinny kid wearing a video game t-shirt.

"Bella." I corrected. A few people around looked over to us, and I could tell that all of the other students around were listening too.

"Where's your next class?" The boy asked.

"Um… Government, I think?" I checked my list. "Building six, with Jefferson."

I kept my eyes on the schedule, rather than acknowledging the increasing number of eyes watching me.

"I'm headed to building four. I could show you the way." He held out his hand. "I'm Eric."

I smiled tentatively and shook it. "Thanks." I said.

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which was falling harder now. I could have sworn a few people behind us were walking unusually close, probably to eavesdrop. I wondered if I was getting paranoid.

"So, Phoenix is a lot different from here, huh?" Eric asked.

"Very different." I agreed.

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"

"Three or four times a year. Usually it's sunny."

"Wow! I'd think you'd be tanner," he grinned.

"I'm half-albino."

Eric studied my face for a moment before he laughed. I felt embarrassed again, since I usually kept those sorts of comments to myself. But his laughter did reassure me, which made me like him a little more.

We walked back down the path I'd taken around the cafeteria. Eric walked me all the way to the door, even though I'd seen the sign long before.

"Good luck," he said. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together."

"Maybe." I smiled and went inside.

The rest of the morning passed without consequence. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, was the only teacher who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I stammered, blushed, and stumbled over my own bootlace on the way to my seat. I could tell I wasn't going to like him.

After two classes, I began to recognize a number of faces in each of my classes. There was always someone who was braver than the others, who would introduce themselves and help me find my classes. They asked me questions about how I liked Forks, and I tried to be diplomatic with my answers even though it was too soon to tell whether I would fit in here.

One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than me, with wild, curly dark hair. She'd introduced herself to me when we first met, but I couldn't remember what her name was and was too embarrassed to ask her again. She talked about teachers and classes and I tried to keep up. She seemed sweet, even though she was almost as awkward as I was socially.

We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced to me. I tried in vain to keep track of all their names. I felt a little guilty for being surprised that she had so many friends. They all seemed impressed with her bravery in speaking to me. The boy from English, Eric, waved at me from across the cafeteria.

It was then, after waving back to Eric, that I first saw them. Seven curious strangers tried to maintain an open conversation for my sake, but my attention was captivated elsewhere.

They were sitting in the corner, as far from where I sat as possible. There were five of them. Though they were talking, they weren't eating, each one with a tray of untouched food in front of them. They weren't looking at me – though that wasn't surprising in such a crowded room – so it was safe to stare at them without fear of meeting their eyes.

It was like they were a unique breed of their own. Though they looked nothing like each other in feature, there was some quality to them that seemed exactly alike. I couldn't place my finger on what it was.

Of the three boys, one was big. He was muscled like a wrestler or a weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. He seemed to smile more than the others, and he moved with a fraternal attitude like a member of a team. The second boy was taller and leaner, though he still had an athletic look to him, with honey blond hair. Though his features were refined and delicate, he had the look of a strong, serious person. The third was different. He was lankier, more boyish looking. The other two could have passed for college students, but he seemed younger. He had untidy, bronze-colored hair and long dark eyelashes. Where his blond neighbor seemed serious-minded, the younger looking boy simply seemed quiet. He looked absorbed in thought, paying little attention to his tablemates.

The two girls sitting with them were opposites of one another. The taller one was statuesque. She had the perfect figure, the kind you saw in magazines. She was the kind of flawless beauty that every girl grows up seeing, believing it to be unattainable. Her hair was golden, flowing halfway down her back and her facial expression was bored and aloof. The short girl next to her was small and pixielike. She had deep black hair, cropped short and pointing in every direction. She seemed more dynamic than her blonde friend, gesturing and smiling as she talked with the curly-haired boy. _Enthusiastic._ I thought.

But as I looked at them, I realized what was so similar. They were all chalky pale, the palest of everyone in the room. Paler than me, the half-albino. There didn't even seem to be any variation in their skin tones. As I compared their varying features, it shocked me to realize they all also had unusually dark eyes, which was especially striking on the fair-haired ones. Beneath those eyes, they wore dark circles, as though they'd suffered a sleepless night. And something about the way their faces were structured seemed unusually straight, perfect and angular.

And though I didn't understand how they could look this way – or why no one else seemed to notice – that wasn't why I couldn't look away.

I stared because, although their faces looked different in some ways and unsettlingly similar in others, they were all devastatingly beautiful. They were faces that you would see in magazines and movies, perfection maintained by constant care. Or the faces painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was impossible to determine who was the most beautiful, they so wholly embodied different types of loveliness, but I couldn't tear my eyes from the bronze-haired boy.

Though the pixielike girl and the curly-haired boy seemed to be having an engaging conversation, the others were quiet, looking at their table rather than each other. As I watched, the small girl rose with her tray –unopened soda, untouched apple –and walked away from the others in her group. I watched, drawn in by her lithe dancer's step, until she dumped her tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought possible without running. My eyes found their table again.

"Who are they?" I asked one of the girl's friends, who I recognized from our Spanish class.

As she looked up to see who I meant – though she seemed to already know, from my tone – the boyish one suddenly looked up, directly at us. His eyes flickered almost imperceptibly between my neighbor and me. When his eyes caught mine, they held my gaze for an uneasily long moment. The moment broke abruptly; he dropped his eyes more quickly than I could, even in my flush of embarrassment. In that brief flash of a glance, his face had been blank, holding no real interest. It was as though she'd called his name and he'd looked up automatically.

My neighbor giggled in embarrassment, looking down at the table along with me.

"That's Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Jasper and Rosalie Hale. They all live with Dr. Cullen and his wife. There's another one of them too, Alice Cullen." She said this under her breath, as though trying to keep her friends from noticing who we were talking about.

I glanced sideways at the bronze-haired boy, who was now picking a bagel apart over his lunch tray. His long, pale fingers made quick work of it. His mouth moved very quickly, lips barely opening. The other three continued to look at each other as if nothing were happening, but I felt he was speaking quietly to them.

Strange, unpopular names, I thought. The kind of names you heard more in a nursing home, or in families of old nobility who carried names through the generations. But maybe that was a naming practice they did here, too. Small-town names? Then I remembered that the girl talking to me was called Jessica, and that seemed a fairly normal name to me. Maybe her family was from somewhere else originally.

"They're… really nice-looking." I said.

"Yes!" Jessica agreed with another giggle. "They're all _together_, though. Emmett and Rosalie are together, and Alice and Jasper. And they _live_ together, so… you know." She seemed scandalized by the idea, and I supposed even in Phoenix a living situation like that would cause gossip.

"Which ones are the Cullens?" I asked. "They don't really look related."

"Oh, they're not. Dr. Cullen and his wife are really young, he was probably fourteen or something when Emmett would've been born. All the kids are adopted. The Hales actually are brother and sister, twins. They're the blonde ones, foster kids."

"They look a little old to be foster kids."

"They are now." Jessica said. "Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen. But I think Mrs. Cullen is their aunt or something, someone told me they've been with her since they were eight."

"That's kind of nice, that they take care of so many kids like that. Especially when they're so young. That probably doesn't happen very often."

"I guess so," Jessica admitted. I got the impression that she didn't like the family for some reason. Judging by the glances she shot toward their table, they seemed to unsettle her. "I think Mrs. Cullen can't have kids." She added, as if that lessened their kindness.

I continued to watch the family, though I tried to be discreet. They continued their subdued conversation, their food still uneaten.

"Have they always lived in Forks?" I asked. I was certain I'd have remembered meeting them on my summers here, but that didn't really mean anything. Maybe their family went on vacation every summer, or maybe their parents didn't let them go out much. They seemed cut off from the rest of the student body, and it seemed unlikely that they would keep so much to themselves if they'd grown up in contact with the community.

"No," she said in a voice that implied it should be obvious. I brushed aside a pang of irritation at her tone – what did she expect? I was new. "They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska."

I felt a strange relief at the idea that I wasn't the only newcomer here, even though they'd been here quite a bit longer. But I didn't let myself feel too relieved; there was clearly something strange about them. They were outsiders, and it appeared they were outsiders by choice. Why would they want to be alone?

As I mulled this thought over, the youngest boy looked up and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. I looked away quickly, though I noticed in the brief moment our eyes met that he seemed to be puzzled, as though he'd been expecting something from me.

"Which one is the boy with the reddish hair?" I asked. I could see through my peripheral vision that he was still watching me. I glanced nervously at him, taking in his frustrated expression, before looking back to my new friends.

"That's Edward. He's gorgeous, but don't get your hopes up. He doesn't date anyone around here. He doesn't do much of anything with people around here, actually. He acts like we're not worth his time, so if I were you, I wouldn't waste mine."

I bit my lip. That didn't sound good, but I didn't want to judge the boy I hadn't even met before. Maybe Jessica was just jealous of the family, or maybe he had turned her down.

I glanced back at the table to see that Edward had turned his face away, though from the looks on the faces of his siblings, they were laughing over something together. After a few minutes, the four of them left their table. They all seemed light on their feet – even the big one – moving with the same fluid gait as the girl that had left earlier. It was unsettling to watch. Edward didn't look at me again.

Even after the bell rang, I stayed with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have if I'd been sitting alone. I was anxious not to be late to classes, but I didn't want to just leave the group that was being friendly to me. I didn't know anyone else. I had Biology II in the next hour, along with the curly-haired girl from my two other classes. She considerately reminded me that her name was Angela, without me even having to ask. We walked to class together in silence, since she seemed to have run out of ideas for conversation. I knew it was probably my fault; I hadn't contributed much to the previous talk to clue her in on my interests.

When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table like the ones my old school had. She already had a partner. In fact, all the tables were filled except for one. Next to the center aisle, I recognized Edward Cullen. It would be hard not to, after I spent the whole of lunch watching him. He sat next to the only open seat.

As I walked down the aisle to see the teacher about signing my slip, I watched him through the corner of my eye. Just as I passed, he went rigid in his seat. He stared at me again, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face – panic. I looked away quickly, shocked. I stumbled over a book someone had left on the floor, catching myself on the table. I heard a few soft chuckles at my expense and willed myself not to blush.

His eyes weren't dark brown, as I'd assumed before. There was no color to them at all. They were black.

Mr. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book without making me introduce myself. I could tell we were going to get along when he didn't insult my intelligence by trying to guide me through the instructions, instead telling me to ask him if I needed help and directing me to have a seat for the lecture.

Of course, there was no place for me to sit except for next to Edward. As I turned and caught his eyes again, I saw that his panicked look had been replaced by outright hostility. Bewildered by the antagonistic stare he'd given me, I slid into the open chair.

I didn't look up as I set my bag on the table and opened my notebook, but I saw his posture change through the corner of my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his hair and averting his face like he smelled something disgusting. I tried to be inconspicuous as I sniffed softly at my hair. It smelled like the strawberry children's shampoo I'd used the night before. It couldn't be that, could it? I let my hair fall over my shoulder, cutting Edward off from my peripheral vision and tried to pay attention to the teacher.

Unfortunately, the lecture was on cellular anatomy. I'd already studied it at my old school, which made it hard for me to keep my mind on the class rather than the discomfort I felt at sitting next to Edward Cullen. I took meticulous notes to try and distract myself from him.

But try as I might, I couldn't stop myself from looking at the strange boy occasionally. During the whole class, I never saw him relax his stiff position on the edge of the chair, sitting as far from me as possible. I could see that his hand was clenched to his left knee, tendons standing out beneath his pale skin. This, too, never relaxed. He had the long sleeves of his white shirt pushed up to his elbows, and his forearm was surprisingly sturdy and toned beneath his skin, which looked somehow too smooth. He was slighter than his brothers, but it was clear he was strong.

The class seemed to drag forever, since I got more and more alarmed by Edward's behavior as time wore on. I was waiting the entire hour for his fist to loosen. It never did; he continued to sit so still it looked like he wasn't breathing. What was wrong with him? Was this his normal behavior? It made me wonder if this was what Jessica had been talking about – but it was different than she'd described it. He didn't act like I wasn't worth his time, he acted like he wanted to hurt me.

It couldn't be somehow my fault, could it? I hadn't even spoken to him, how could I have caused it?

I peeked up at him one more time, but instantly regretted it. He was staring at me again, his black eyes full of something animal that made my hands clammy. I shrank away from him almost involuntarily, now knowing what 'if looks could kill' really meant.

At that moment, the bell rang. I jumped, startled. Edward Cullen was standing before I even had a chance to look. He rose – much taller than I'd thought – and turned his back to me. He was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.

I sat frozen at the table, staring after him in shock. What kind of a person behaved that way, with such open disgust? How could he treat a stranger that way? I had a visceral feeling of shame and rejection that I'd never experienced before. It wasn't fair, I thought, and I wished I could feel angry about it instead of feeling gutted. I would be humiliated if I cried on my first day of school.

"Aren't you Isabella Swan?" a voice asked.

I looked up to see a handsome, broad-faced boy. His pale blond hair was gelled into carefully disheveled spikes, and he was smiling at me in a friendly way. He obviously didn't think I was disgusting. What was wrong with Edward Cullen?

"Bella," I corrected him, smiling.

"I'm Mike." He said. "Do you need any help finding your next class?"

"I'm headed to Gym, actually. I think I can find it." I wasn't sure I could handle trying to be social when I was so shaken up about what had just happened.

"That's my next class too," he said, and I felt my stomach sink. Well. There was nowhere to go but up, I supposed.

We walked to class together. He was a chatterer, which I was thankful for at the moment. He supplied most of the conversation for me. He'd moved from California when he was ten, so he knew how I felt about the sun. It was nice to hear someone who understood where I was coming from, even if I wasn't a very good conversational partner. He reminded me that he was in my English class, too, although I didn't remember him. I wish I had – he was the nicest person I'd met that day.

As we were entering the gym, he asked. "So, did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen him act that way before."

I tried to conceal my surprise. Of course other people had noticed his behavior… it wasn't normal. Even if Edward acted that way all the time, it wasn't how normal people acted. But apparently it _wasn't_ Edward Cullen's usual behavior, which brought back my unhappy feelings.

"The boy I sat next to, you mean?" I asked.

"Yes." He said. "He looked like he was having a nervous breakdown or something."

"I don't know why he was like that." I said. "I never even spoke to him."

"He's a weird guy." Mike lingered by me instead of heading to the dressing room. "No one else would have done that if they were sitting next to you. _I_ would have talked to you." He gave a smarmy arch of his eyebrow at his last comment, and I wasn't sure how to take it. It was hard to tell if he was joking or if he was really trying to flirt. Either way, he had far more confidence than I did, which made me feel distinctly out of place, although it was flattering.

I smiled at him before walking through the girls' locker room door. He was friendly and clearly wanted to reassure me. It didn't completely erase the feelings that lingered from Edward's reaction, but it did help.

The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found a uniform for me but didn't make me dress down for today's class. At home, only two years of P.E. were required. Here you had to take it all four years. It was like the world wanted to make my first day as humiliating as possible.

I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. I'd wished when I was younger that I could be on a school team of some sort, and had spent a few years trying to play volleyball. Eventually the injuries and blows to my self-esteem had become too much, and I'd quit. Now I felt anxious and faintly nauseated, being forced to relive childhood humiliations on my first day. I hoped fervently that they would be playing something different tomorrow.

The final bell rang at last. I gathered my things and left the class as quickly as possible, driving to the front office to turn in my signed slips so that I could go home. The rain had stopped, but the wind was strong and cold, and as I walked from the lot to the office, I wrapped my arms around myself.

When I entered the bright room, I nearly walked back out.

Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. I somehow recognized him before I even saw the tousled bronze hair peeking out from beneath his knit cap. He didn't appear to notice my entrance and I pressed against the back wall, waiting for him to leave so I could talk to the receptionist.

He was arguing her with a low, attractive voice. It annoyed me that he was so attractive physically, when he was apparently so unpleasant in personality. I didn't hear all of what they were saying, but I picked up enough of it. He was trying to switch out of our Biology class to another time. Any other time.

I felt denial rising in my chest, at the same time that I felt my stomach drop at the idea that this was about me. It had to be something else, didn't it? Something that happened before I'd entered the room? How could this stranger have taken such an intense, sudden dislike to me? But what else could it have been? Mike's comments had made it clear that he thought Edward's behavior was directed to me, too. Could we both be wrong?

The door opened again, and the wind gusted forward into the room, rustling the papers on the desk and swirling my hair around my face. The girl who came in was only dropping off a note, but the energy in the room had changed. Edward Cullen's back stiffened, and he turned slowly to look at me. I couldn't read the expression on his face, but it frightened me. He looked at me only for a moment before he turned back to the receptionist.

"Never mind, then," he said hastily, his voice suddenly rough. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help." He turned on his heel and disappeared out the door, not so much as looking at me as he left.

I went meekly to the desk, my face white, and handed her my signed slip.

"How did your first day go, dear?" The receptionist asked, seeming to notice that I looked shaken up. She looked slightly ruffled herself over the argument she'd had with Edward.

"Uh, fine." I lied, my voice thin. She didn't seem convinced, but didn't push the issue.

When I got to the truck, it was one of the last cars in the lot. It seemed like a haven already, the closest thing to a feeling of home I had in this dark, damp place. It was one of the only places I felt safe: I wasn't surrounded by my father's home, feeling like a guest; I wasn't trying to navigate a social situation; and Edward Cullen wasn't here. I sat inside while the car warmed up, staring blankly out the window. Finally giving up on trying to work through the events of the day here, I headed back to my dad's house, managing to fight back tears until I got there.


	2. Chapter 2: Open Book

2. OPEN BOOK

The next day was better.

It wasn't raining yet, though the clouds were dense and opaque. I knew what to expect today, I wouldn't have to introduce myself, and there were people now who wanted to talk to me. Mike came to sit by me in English, and joined Eric in walking me to my next class. It was flattering that both boys seemed interested in me. People didn't look at me quite as much as they had yesterday. I sat with a big group of people at lunch, and was beginning to remember their names and faces. I could feel myself becoming more comfortable by the minute, and even dared to feel hopeful.

It helped that I'd actually slept the night before. The sound of the wind echoing around the house had reminded me of the sound of traffic, so I'd had less trouble falling asleep. Of course, the day wasn't perfect. I got a Trig question wrong and in Gym, we played volleyball again, although this time I had to participate. But those things could have happened in my old school, too. It didn't feel quite so overwhelming now that I knew some people here.

But the real reason the next day was better was something else. Edward Cullen wasn't in school at all.

All morning I'd been dreading lunch, afraid to be on the receiving end of his glares again. Part of me wanted to confront him, but it was a part of myself that usually stayed hidden. I wanted to demand to know what his problem was, but I was scared of him. I knew myself too well to think I would really have the guts to talk to him that way.

When I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica and Angela, my eyes swept the place to find the group's table. His four siblings were sitting together at the same table, but he wasn't with them.

I tried to conceal my relief at seeing him absent, as Mike intercepted us and steered us to his table. Jessica seemed delighted by his attention, and her friends joined us. I envied their easy chatter, but wondered where Edward Cullen was. Had he skipped lunch? Was he avoiding me? Would he skip Biology too, or would he ignore me again?

He didn't show up for the rest of the lunch period, and with each passing minute I felt more relaxed. Maybe he'd stayed home. Maybe he'd even transferred schools. I didn't care what had happened to him, so long as I didn't have to wither under his gaze anymore.

I walked to Biology with more confidence when, by the end of lunch, he still hadn't showed. Mike walked faithfully by my side to class, which I appreciated. I was distracted and not very good company, I knew, but he seemed to actually care about whether I got to my class.

I held my breath at the door, but I saw that Edward Cullen wasn't there. I sighed in relief and took my seat. Mike followed, talking about an upcoming trip to the beach. He lingered by my desk until the bell rang, when he smiled at me with mock wistfulness and went to sit by his lab partner. I wondered for the second time if his over-the-top flirtations were genuine.

I enjoyed the class much more in Edward's absence. I told myself that repeatedly. But I couldn't get rid of the heavy feeling that he wasn't here because of me, and the idea that someone could hate me so instantly was very difficult to accept. It seemed so ridiculous that I could affect anyone that strongly. It was impossible. And yet I couldn't stop worrying that it was true.

After the day was over and I'd changed from my gym clothes back into my jeans and sweater, I hurried from the girls' locker room, pleased to find that my truck wasn't as far away as I'd thought it was. The lot was crowded now with fleeing students. I got in my truck and dug through my bag for the shopping list.

In the summers I'd spent with my dad, I'd discovered that he couldn't cook much besides fried eggs and bacon. It wasn't a big deal when we were only visiting together, but now that I was going to be living with him, I'd requested to be assigned kitchen detail. He was willing enough to hand over the keys to the banquet hall. I also found out that he had no food in the house aside from those few things, so I made a shopping list and took cash from the jar in the cabinet labeled 'FOOD MONEY', and I was about to drive to the Thriftway.

I gunned my deafening engine to life, ignoring the heads that turned at the sound, and pulled into the line of cars that were waiting to exit the lot. As I waited I saw the two Cullens and the Hale twins getting into their car. It was the one shiny Volvo I'd seen the day before. Of course.

I didn't know much about clothing, so I hadn't noticed anything unusual about their dress in school, especially since it looked no more expensive than the clothing my classmates in Phoenix often wore. But it was obvious to me now that, compared to the others in this town, they were exceptionally dressed. It seemed excessive for them to have both good looks and money. Unfortunately, as far as I could tell, life worked that way most of the time. At least it was obvious that the Cullens themselves were the only ones in town who felt their behavior was justified by their wealth.

I realized, however, that no matter the amount of wealth, Edward's actions toward me wouldn't be acceptable to anyone in their right mind. Their isolation – or his, at least – had to be something he desired. I couldn't imagine anyone thinking they were the ones being persecuted after behaving that way.

I ran my errands, welcoming the distraction they provided from the unpleasant preoccupation I was developing with the Cullen family. When I got home, I put the groceries away and set about making dinner. I put potatoes in the oven to bake and covered a steak in marinade to soak in the fridge.

I changed into pajamas and pulled up my email. There were already three messages from my mother.

Bella,

Write me as soon as you get in. Tell me how

your flight was. Is it raining? I miss you alr-

eady. I'm almost finished packing for Flori-

da, but I can't find my pink blouse. Do you

know where I put it? Phil says hi. Mom.

I sighed and went to the next. It was sent eight hours after the first.

Bella,

Why haven't you e-mailed me yet? What are you

waiting for? Mom.

The last was from this morning.

Isabella,

If I haven't heard from you by 5:30 p.m. to-

day I'm calling Charlie. Mom.

I checked the clock. I still had an hour, but my mom was known for jumping the gun.

Mom,

Calm down, I'm writing right now. You don't

have to worry so much, I've just been busy.

Bella.

I sent that first, before starting a real letter.

Mom,

Everything here's great. Of course it's raining,

we both knew it would be! I was waiting for something

worth writing about. School isn't bad, there are some

nice kids who let me sit with them at lunch. Almost ev-

eryone here has been really nice to me. I think I'll be

able to settle in here.

Your blouse is at the dry-cleaners, you were

supposed to pick it up on Friday! Tsk tsk.

Dad got me a truck – can you believe that! I

love it. It's old but sturdy, which is good. Especially

for me!

I miss you, too. I'll write again soon, but you

know how I am with computers. Especially a computer

like this one, that went out with the ark. Give me at

least a day between emails before you panic!

I love you.

Bella.

After the email, I turned to my homework. I started skimming through _Wuthering Heights_ – the novel we were studying in English – because I'd already read the book for another class. I was quickly pulled into the story, however, as it provided a good escape from thoughts of school. I was still reading when Charlie came home, having lost track of time. Embarrassed, I hurried downstairs to pull the potatoes from the oven and set the steak in to broil.

"Bella?" Dad called out as he heard me on the stairs.

"Hey, Dad. Welcome home."

"Thanks." He hung up his gun belt and stepped out of his boots as I bustled through the kitchen. As far as I was aware, he'd never had to shoot the gun on the job. He kept it ready, though. When I was little he used to take out the bullets as soon as he walked in the door. It wasn't until he taught me to shoot at age thirteen that he considered me old enough to respect the weapon.

"What's for dinner?" he asked. He gave the oven a wary look. My mother was a very imaginative cook, but her creations weren't always edible, and I knew he was wondering if I had inherited that particular personality quirk. It made me feel slightly sad that he still remembered my mother's cooking, after so many years apart.

"Steak and potatoes." I answered, and he looked pleased.

Apparently feeling awkward standing in the kitchen doing nothing, he lumbered into the living room to watch TV. We were both more comfortable that way. I made a salad while the steaks cooked, and set the table.

"Smells good, Bells." He said when I called him in for dinner.

"Thanks."

We ate in silence for a few minutes. Unlike how silences normally felt, it wasn't uncomfortable. We were used to being quiet together, since we both had trouble sharing. In some ways, we were probably well suited for living together.

"How did you like school? Have you made any friends?" He asked as he served himself seconds.

"I have a few classes with a girl named Jessica, and I've been sitting with her at lunch. And a girl named Angela, she's been helping me remember everyone's names. And there's this boy, Mike, who's been really friendly to me. Almost everyone seems pretty nice." With one exception.

"That must be Mike Newton. Nice kid. His dad owns the sporting goods store just outside of town. They make a good living off the backpackers who come through here."

It made sense that my Dad knew most of the town – everyone was living on top of everyone else here – but for some reason it hadn't occurred to me to ask him about them.

"Do you know the Cullen family?" I asked.

"Dr. Cullen's family? Sure. He's a good man."

"Their kids seem a little… different. They don't fit in at school."

Charlie surprised me with an irritated, dismissive look.

"People in this town. Dr. Cullen is a talented doctor, we're lucky to have him. Accident fatalities have gone down twenty percent since he started working here. We're lucky his wife wanted to live in a small town, he could be working at much larger hospitals. He's an asset to the community."

I frowned, looking at my dad. "People don't like the family?" I said. It didn't surprise me that they didn't like the kids, with the way they behaved, but the parents sounded like they had been very kind and generous. I'd assumed that people would view them differently.

"Well, we all had our doubts at first. I mean, these young adults moving here with all those adopted teenagers. I thought we might have some problems with them. But they're all very mature – they never get into trouble. Just because they seem to have some social issues is no reason to punish the parents. Those children were adopted as teenagers, who knows where they came from?" He shook his head. I didn't realize until later that his story was different from what Jessica had said, which was that they'd been adopted when they were seven.

"I haven't had one speck of trouble with those teenagers, which is more than I can say for some of the kids in town. But just because they seem troubled, and stick to themselves, people have to talk. Everyone wants to suggest that they're on drugs or in crime when there's no evidence to it at all, it's just how people punish the family for not being traditional."

It was the longest speech I'd ever heard my Dad make. He clearly felt strongly about whatever people were saying, but I wondered if some of the things people said might not be true. Edward's behavior had been so inappropriate, and he was so pale. He could have been on drugs.

"Most of them seem nice enough, I guess. They keep to themselves." I said. "But one of them made me feel very uncomfortable in class the other day."

"What did he do?" My dad was suddenly concerned, and for some reason I wanted to downplay what had happened. I didn't need him getting involved in my social life, which was bound to kill any potential friendships I could end up making.

"Oh – it was nothing, really. I guess. He just ignored me the whole class hour, even though we were sitting at the table together."

"You were doing a lab?"

"No," I hesitated. "It was a lecture."

"Maybe he was just concentrating on the class."

I didn't know how to explain what had happened. It was true that the class was a lecture, and we hadn't had any reason to talk to each other. I didn't know how to help my dad understand what had bothered me so much, and I worried that he would go to the Cullen family and confront them, so I left the topic at that.

"I know why you were upset by it," Dad said suddenly, grinning.

"What?"

"Don't worry, Bells, I'm sure he was just focused on class. Don't think he doesn't like you because of that. When you talk, he'll get to see what a lovely girl you are." He said.

"Dad, that's not – "

"You should see the doctor," Dad said, laughing. "It's a good thing he's married. A lot of the women at the hospital have a hard time concentrating on their work when he's around."

I gave my dad a vague smile and we lapsed into silence again as we finished eating. I cleared the table as he started on the dishes. I went upstairs to do my math homework, and as I settled in at my desk I could hear the television switching on downstairs. Tradition in the making.

The next few days at school went as uneventfully as the day before. By the end of the week, I was starting to find my place. Friday, between English and Spanish, Eric caught me by the arm.

"Hey, I was wondering if you might want to hang out this weekend." Eric said.

I was surprised. Eric was nice, and fairly cute in my opinion, but I had started to think he was a little goofy. I had sensed that he was attracted to me; the way he acted reminded me of my friend Roy from home. Still, I didn't think he'd actually ask me out. I tried to think of an easy way to decline without wounding Eric's pride.

"Oh. Do you mean just the two of us, or as a group?" I asked.

Eric seemed to immediately lose his nerve, and I felt a pang of guilt. "Oh, you know, whatever. It would be cool to do a group thing." He said.

At that moment Mike walked up, smiling confidently.

"Oh, hey, Eric. Don't get any funny ideas, man, trying to steal my girl away from me." He said, humor heavy in his voice. I felt relieved at the rescue from Eric's date invitation, though Eric seemed annoyed at Mike's show of staking a claim. By now, I was sure Mike wasn't being serious, but it occurred to me that Eric might think there was a seed of truthfulness in Mike's comments. I found myself wondering again.

"Don't you worry, Mike." Eric said flatly. "We were just talking."

"I got my eye on you, man!" Mike grinned, slapping Eric on the shoulder as he walked away. There was an awkward pause as Mike left, before Eric and I turned and continued walking to class.

"He's a funny guy." Eric said as he walked me to Spanish. I could tell he was trying hard to be a good sport, even though he seemed to feel Mike had ruined the moment.

Eric didn't bring up the idea again, and at lunch I discovered that Mike had already been planning a group trip to the La Push Ocean Park in two weeks. I could tell Eric was embarrassed about his earlier proposal, because he joined in the conversation about La Push as if he hadn't suggested anything to me. He asked if I'd be going to the beach with them, and the others encouraged me to come along. I agreed I'd go.

The weekend rolled through without consequence. My dad spent most of his time working over the weekend, I think in part because he wasn't used to the house having someone in it. I'd talked briefly with Angela when we ran into each other at the library on Saturday, but the rest of the weekend I spent in my own company, reading. The library was so poorly stocked that I only found a few things I was even interested in reading. I would have to find a good bookstore soon; maybe I'd go to Seattle. I wondered what kind of gas mileage the truck would get, and for the hundredth time reminded myself that I needed to find a job.

The rain stayed soft over the weekend, but I was beginning to get used to the sounds of weather against the roof. I was able to sleep well.

I was feeling bright and fresh as I drove into the parking lot on Monday morning. To my delight, a few people greeted me in the parking lot. I'd forgotten a few names, but I waved and smiled at them. It was colder this morning than it had been since I arrived in Forks, but at least it wasn't raining. Mike sat next to me in English, as he had done the past few school days. We had a pop quiz on _Wuthering Heights_, and I was glad I'd re-read the book. All in all, I was feeling far happier than I'd thought I would, especially so soon after arriving.

When we walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of white. I could hear people shouting in excitement, the wind biting at our cheeks and noses.

"It's snowing!" Mike said. "It's because of me, you know. I made it snow just for you, Bella, with my superpowers." He stuck his tongue out to catch a snowflake.

"You'd have to be mean to do that!" I protested, though I wasn't really mad.

"What, you don't like a good romantic snowfall? You break my heart!"

I laughed. "I don't like snow, it means that the universe thinks rain isn't _cold_ enough for us. Besides, it's coming down in big clumps!"

"That's how snow falls!" Mike said. "Haven't you seen snow fall before?"

"Of course I have!" I said. "In movies."

"_Movies_?" Mike laughed incredulously, diving toward the quickly deepening snow and tossing a handful in my direction. I threw my hands in front of myself and prepared to retaliate, but there wasn't time. A big, squishy ball of dripping snow smashed apart against the back of Mike's head, and he was off. I saw him go after Eric, hastily assembling a snowball of revenge. They laughed and hollered, apparently determined to be late for their next class.

"See you little boys at lunch, when you're done playing!" I called after them. Eric waved at me from the ground as Mike tried to shove snow down into his friend's jacket.

Everyone seemed excited about the snow, which was apparently the first fall of the year. Somehow I hadn't expected people to be so excited about something that happened here all the time, but it really brought the differences between Phoenix and Forks to my attention. The people I'd met here seemed much more grateful for what they had, and were determined to enjoy themselves regardless of whether their fun would result in wet socks.

I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica after Spanish. Although the teachers were trying to stop people from fighting too much with the snow, balls of mush were flying everywhere outside. I was fully prepared to use my belongings as a shield if I saw a snowball coming, though with my coordination I would probably end up hurting myself if I tried. Jessica had a lighter spirit about the snow fights than I did, but she shrieked when a snowball barely missed her head.

"Don't get my hair wet!" She shouted in the general direction it had come from.

Mike caught up with us as we walked in the doors, laughing. The ice had loosened the hold in his hair gel, and he had shoved it all to the center like a Mohawk. He and Jessica started talking animatedly about the snow as we got in line to buy food.

I didn't notice anything out of place, but I found my gaze drawn to the table in the corner, where he'd sat the first day. It was as if I knew, without even looking, that he was there.

Edward was at the table.

"Bella, what do you want?" Jessica prompted me, nudging me with her elbow. I looked back to her and the line, where people were waiting for me to order. I asked for a soda and a hot sandwich. I wasn't hungry, but I didn't want to waste everyone's time by just getting a drink. Maybe my appetite would come back.

As we sat at the table, I sipped at my soda quietly.

"Aren't you hungry?" Angela asked.

"Actually, I feel a little sick."

Although I didn't complain about it, my new friends asked me several times how I was feeling. I told them it was nothing, but I was seriously considering using it as an excuse to go stay in the nurse's office. I didn't want to go to my next class, didn't want to have to sit with him.

Ridiculous. I shouldn't have to run away.

I decided to allow myself one glance at their table. If he was watching me again, I'd go to the nurse's office instead of class.

They were laughing. All of them except for the tall blonde girl, Rosalie, had hair saturated with wet snow. Rosalie was recoiling from Emmett as he shook his wet curls toward her. They were enjoying the snowy day just like everyone else.

Although I'd seen them talking normally over the previous week, somehow this seemed different. They looked happier, and healthy – they looked like regular people. Something about them had changed.

I examined Edward as closely as I dared. He looked completely different from how he'd been that first day. He was animated, he looked less pale – flushed from the snow fight, maybe – and there was something about him that felt vibrant to me. I couldn't explain it.

"What are you looking at?" Jessica asked. The Cullen table was fairly difficult to see with so many excited kids in the cafeteria.

At the precise moment Jessica spoke, Edward's eyes flashed to me. There. There was the change. Something about his eyes was different. He didn't look harsh or unfriendly at all, and there was no trace of the panic I'd seen on his face in Biology. He looked curious, and something about his gaze felt soft and open, instead of cold and empty.

"Edward Cullen." Jessica said, finally pinpointing where I was looking. "He's staring at you." She sounded surprised.

"Does he look angry to you?"

"No." She said, her tone questioning. "Should he?"

"I don't think he likes me." I said. I was sure Mike would have told her about how Edward reacted to me, but perhaps Jessica and Mike weren't as close as I thought.

"The Cullens don't like anybody." She said. "They barely even notice anyone else. But he's still staring at you… maybe you have the magic touch." I smiled slightly, sure that wasn't the case. But the last time we'd talked about Edward, I'd been pointing out how good-looking the Cullens were. Jessica probably thought I had a crush on him, and was trying to make me feel better.

"Stop looking at him." I hissed, embarrassed.

She laughed, but looked away. I raised my head just enough to make sure she kept her eyes away from the Cullen table.

Mike interrupted us then. He was planning a snow battle of epic proportions in the parking lot after school, and he wanted us to join in. Jessica agreed enthusiastically. It was easy to see that Jessica would be up for anything that would let her spend more time with Mike. He didn't seem averse to her attention, either, which is probably why I'd thought they were close friends. I was starting to see that they were still just getting to know one another. I kept silent about the snow battle, though I wasn't sure I'd be up for a snow fight after another class with Edward Cullen. I'd have to wait and see what happened.

It proved to be a moot point, however, because as we left the lunchroom there was a collective groan. The rain had returned and was washing the snow away. I wasn't sure whether I was pleased that the snow was gone, since the rain didn't seem much better to me. Either way I'd be soaked by the end of the day.

Mike wasn't the sort to be sullen about it, though, and talked hopefully of snow to come in the next few months. I was sure the snow battle would happen in good time, just not today.

Once inside the classroom, I saw with relief that my table was still empty. Mr. Banner was walking around the room, distributing microscopes and a box of slides to each table. Class wouldn't start for a few minutes, and the room had a warm lull of conversation. I doodled on the cover of the notebook, thinking that they must have found another Biology class for Edward Cullen to transfer to. It was fine by me.

I was wrong, though. I heard very clearly when the chair next to me moved, though I was afraid to lift my eyes from my doodling.

"Hello," said a quiet, melodic voice.

I looked up. He was speaking to me. He was still sitting quite far away from me, but his chair was angled to face my direction. His hair was still shining with snow, disheveled in an obnoxiously attractive way. His handsome face was friendly, open, with a slight smile on his rosy lips. His eyes were cautious.

"My name is Edward Cullen." He continued. "I didn't introduce myself last week. You must be Bella Swan."

My mind was spinning. Why was he acting so differently? Had I just been nervous that first day, and exaggerated how strange it had been? Had I worked myself up over nothing? But Mike had seen him, too, he'd said something about it that day. I couldn't convince myself that I wasn't wrong, though. Mike had also jokingly suggested that Eric was trying to steal me away from him. Maybe he'd been teasing me a bit and I just hadn't realized it at the time.

Edward was looking at me with perfect politeness, waiting for me to speak.

"How d'you know my name?" I stammered.

He gave me a look of amused surprise. "Everyone knows your name." He said. "The whole town was talking about your arrival."

I pulled a face. I thought he was exaggerating, of course, but that wasn't what I'd meant. "No, why'd you call me Bella?"

"I thought that's what you preferred." He said, looking puzzled.

"It is." I said. "It's just, everyone here seems to assume I go by 'Isabella'. I guess my Dad must call me that behind my back or something."

"Oh." He said. I wished I'd let it drop. I didn't know what was going on here, but now I couldn't help doubting my own reaction to our previous interaction. No one would act so hostile toward a stranger and then just pretend it had never happened. "I guess I must have heard someone else talking about you, then. I don't really know where I heard it."

Mr. Banner started class at that moment. I tried to concentrate as he explained the lab we would be doing today. The slides in the box were out of order. Working as lab partners, we had to separate the slides of onion root cells into the phases of mitosis they represented. We weren't allowed to use our books. In twenty minutes, he would be coming around to see how we were doing.

"Get started."

"Ladies first." Edward said. I looked up, unsure of how to take his crooked smile. It was as if he were a different person, suddenly as pleasant as he was handsome. I had the bizarre thought that this was the real Edward, but quickly shoved that impulse away. It felt wrong, trying to forget how he'd treated me before. It meant something.

"Or I could start, if you'd rather." His smile faded.

"No, sorry," I said, blushing. "I'll go first."

I'd already done this lab, and I knew what I was looking for. It was easy for me. I snapped the first slide into place, studying it briefly.

"Prophase." I said.

"Do you mind if I look?" he asked as I reached to remove the slide. He caught my hand in his, as he asked. His fingers were surprisingly cold, as if he had poor circulation. But that wasn't why I pulled away so quickly. The texture of his skin was strange – it felt so much smoother than skin usually did. There was a strange sensation to it, like a buzzing of foreign energy against my fingertips. There was also a spark of chemistry that I'd never experienced with a boy before.

"Sorry." He muttered, pulling his hand back from mine. I put the slide back in place so he could check for himself.

"Prophase." He agreed.

He replaced the slide with the next in line, glancing at it briefly.

"Anaphase." He said.

I lifted an eyebrow. "Do you mind if I look?" I repeated his earlier words.

He gave a sheepish smile and gestured toward the microscope, inviting me to use it. I looked through the microscope, confirming his answer.

Through the rest of the lab, I could tell he was being careful not to touch me again. Had he thought I didn't like it? Or did he feel that spark too? I wasn't even sure which answer I wanted. How could my feelings have changed?

We finished the lab long before anyone else was close. I could see Mike and his partner comparing two slides again and again, and another group had the book open under their table.

I didn't know what to talk about with Edward, because the reaction I'd had to him confused me. It would have been easier to ignore him if not for that feeling of electricity that passed between us. If I hadn't felt that, I could have just told myself he was unbalanced and dangerous. I could have settled on avoiding him. But I'd had such a thrilling physical response that I could only pick apart the memory of how he'd treated me last time, searching for flaws in my own perception.

I tried not to look at him, but it was hard. When I finally succumbed to the urge, he was openly watching me, the same inexplicable look of frustration in his eyes.

Suddenly I knew what had made me think that Edward looked more vibrant today.

"Your eyes." I said. "Did you get contacts?"

He was clearly surprised by my question. "No." He said. His voice sounded puzzled, but I noticed him averting his gaze. I wasn't sure if I was just seeing things or not.

"I thought there was something different about your eyes. I remembered them looking differently, I guess." I said, uneasy.

He shrugged but said nothing.

Even though he acted like he didn't know what I was talking about, I was sure his eyes were a different color. I'd remembered his black eyes clearly, since they'd unsettled me so much. But today they looked completely different. They were a strange shade of brown, almost an amber color. Darker than butterscotch but with the same golden tone. I knew I hadn't misremembered things, I knew it. His eyes were a different color.

I decided he must be lying for some reason. I couldn't begin to know why he'd feel the need to lie. After all, I hadn't understood why he treated me so poorly before and then acted as though it had never even happened. He was just strange, maybe that was all there was to it.

I glanced down. His hands were clenched against his knees again.

Mr. Banner appeared behind us, looking over our shoulders to glance at the completed lab, examining the answers we'd put down.

"Edward, didn't you think Isabella should get a chance with the microscope?"

"Bella." I corrected automatically, after which I realized that Edward had corrected the teacher in unison with me.

"She did three of the five, actually." Edward said, breezing past our unexpected moment of harmony.

Mr. Banner looked at me, curious. "Do we finally have some competition for Edward, then?" He asked, seeming pleased.

I gave a slight laugh. "Oh – I don't know. Actually, I've done this lab before. Just not with onion root."

"Whitefish blastula?"

I nodded.

"Were you in advanced placement in Phoenix?"

"Yeah." I said. "I guess I've already done a lot of the stuff we'll be studying, huh?"

"Probably." Mr. Banner admitted. "I'll try to keep it interesting for you, though. And I guess it's a good thing you two are lab partners, Miss Swan. You must have some special talent with people; it's nice to see Edward actually getting along with someone, for once."

I took a moment, surprised that the teacher seemed to have made a dig at Edward. As Mr. Banner walked away, I glanced over at the boy next to me. He had a perturbed expression on his face. Why had the teacher treated Edward that way, unprovoked? Was this what my dad had been talking about when he'd gone on his rant about the way the town treated the Cullens?

"Too bad about the snow, isn't it?" Edward asked. I wasn't certain why he was trying to make small talk with me. Suspicion swept over me again. Was he trying to make up for how unwelcoming he'd been before? Or had he noticed my reaction to Mr. Banner's comment, and was trying to distract me from it?

"Not really." I answered honestly.

"You don't like the cold." It wasn't a question. It was like he'd heard me talking to Mike about it.

"I don't like the rain, either."

"Forks must be like a wonderland to you," He said, looking mildly amused.

"Oh, it's paradise." I responded.

"Why did you move here?"

No one had asked me that yet. I guess I should have expected people to, but most people appeared to have made up their own minds about why I was moving back to Forks to live with my Dad. No one seemed to want to hear it from me.

"It's complicated."

"I think I can keep up." He said. His insistent tone surprised me. I met his gaze. The change in his eyes was still alarming, but mostly I was irritated with his persistence. Most people would realize from my response that I didn't want to talk about it. Most people would have let it go. He didn't. Defiant, I answered. If he wanted to hear my baggage, he would hear it.

"My mother got remarried."

"Not so complicated, then." He dismissed me with a single breath.

What did he know about complicated? He may have been adopted, but the life he lived now seemed decidedly easy. He had money and looks and an absurdly close family. He didn't know me, who was _he_ to judge?

He seemed to suddenly notice my insulted expression. "You don't like him?" He said, softening his tone.

I blinked. "No. I like him a lot actually. Phil's a great person. Too young, maybe, but nicer than the others have been."

"Your mother marries a lot?" Edward asked.

"No!" I snapped. Was he speculating about my mother's integrity? "She dated before she got married. The other guys didn't last long because they weren't right for her. Phil is."

"So why didn't you stay?"

"Phil travels a lot. He plays ball for a living."

"Really? Anyone I'd know?" he asked.

I gave a skeptical smile. "Probably not. Partly because he plays minor league, but mostly because you don't seem like much of a sports lover. But he moves around a lot."

Edward seemed unsure of whether or not to be offended at my comment about him not being sporty, though I felt bad after saying it. I'd only been joking, but he hadn't picked up on it.

"Your mother sent you here so she could travel with him, then." He said. I found it aggravating that, rather than simply ask me about my life, he voiced his snap assumptions about me.

My chin lifted slightly in defiance. "No, she did not. I sent myself. She had been staying home with me, but she missed him so much. It made her unhappy. I decided to come and live with my dad, so that she could be with her husband."

Edward looked at me, his curiosity evident again. "And now you're unhappy."

I shrugged. "You say that like you think I was treated this way at my old school. I wasn't. It's hard to change everything at once, but believe me, being accepted here is better than being an outsider back there. Most of the people I knew back home weren't like Mike or Jessica. They were closer to how you acted last time."

He froze, staring hard at me. I wondered what he was thinking, if he was trying to decide whether to acknowledge how he'd behaved or to pretend it didn't happen, like he was now. I was beginning to find that I was able to surprise myself. I had a new start here, and people were treating me like a new person. They were treating me with respect and interest, treating me with kindness and friendliness. It made me feel stronger, and even in the short time between when we'd met and now, I discovered I _could_ confront people when they had hurt me. I felt a new rush, a feeling of accomplishment.

"I like it better here." I said, after the long and awkward silence. "I just miss my mom. And the sunshine."

His gaze became appraising, and I detected a hint of annoyance from him. "You put on a good show." He said slowly. "But I'd be willing to bet that you're suffering more than you let anyone see."

I said nothing. As far as I was concerned, this conversation was over.

"Am I wrong?"

I ignored him.

"I didn't think so." He said, though he sounded more ornery than smug.

"Why does it matter to _you_?" I asked, irritated. I turned to look at him, almost hoping he would give me the kind of glare he had last time.

"That's a very good question." He muttered, so quietly that I wondered if he was talking to himself. He didn't look at me again, and after a few moments, I decided that was the only answer I would get. I sighed.

"Am I annoying you?"

"'Annoying' doesn't describe what I'm feeling. There's no word for what I'm feeling. I don't understand what your angle is. And I have this crazy feeling you're just going to pretend like the last class we had together didn't happen."

Silence again. When I turned to look at him, he was staring at his hands with a troubled expression on his face.

"Just apologize." I demanded. "You can't be like that to someone and then pretend it didn't happen. It's not fair. It's confusing, it's cruel, and it makes you seem like a crazy person. So just tell me that you're sorry."

I could see his jaw working. After a moment, he wet his lips.

"I treated you badly." Edward said softly, and I could see how difficult it was for him. He continued to stare at his hands. "I was having some… personal problems that day. It was not your fault, but for… some reason… I directed my feelings toward you. You never did anything to me, you certainly didn't deserve it. I could tell that my behavior frightened you. I regretted it later. I took some time off from school to get myself in order. I am, I'm sorry."

"Thank you." I said. "I accept your apology."

"I sometimes have trouble addressing things directly. I don't know how to do it." He admitted, turning his eyes in my direction again. "I'm glad you don't have the same problem."

I found myself smiling a bit. "It's new territory for me, too." I said. "I never really got much attention at my old school. I guess it's helping me be a little more open. Not that I need to most of the time, my mother always tells me I'm an open book."

"On the contrary, I find you extraordinarily difficult to read."

He sounded like he meant it. I looked at him. "Well, you don't seem to like being around people very much. Maybe you just haven't had to learn."

His amber eyes turned toward me again, and something in them made me feel sorry for saying that. "I've always had to read people whether I wanted to or not." He said flatly.

I wasn't certain what that meant. His tone made me think it was something bad. Maybe he'd had to watch out for signs that he was about to be hit, or yelled at. He'd been adopted when he was younger, maybe he'd been in foster homes before that, or a group home of some kind. It might even explain why he'd been unable to apologize to me in a normal way.

"It's a natural gift, really." He continued, seeming uncomfortable with my thoughtful silence. "I've always been good at it. But you're different. I can't tell what you're feeling the way I can with most people."

"You haven't even spoken to me before today." I said, looking at him incredulously.

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Mr. Banner called the class to order. Edward seemed engrossed in me, and so different from how he'd behaved before.

I could see from the corner of my eye that he had shifted his weight away from me, and his arm was tensed against the table. Why did he knot up that way? When the bell rang, Edward was gone as quickly as he had been on my first day. I watched after him pensively.

Mike appeared at my side, picking up my books for me.

"Awful, awful class." He said. "Good thing Cullen was working with you, the teachers all think he's some genius. He always gets that stuff right."

"I didn't have any trouble with it, actually." I said. "I'm pretty good at science."

"Cullen seemed friendly enough today." He commented as we shrugged into our raincoats. Before I could wonder if he sounded displeased about it, he threw an arm over my shoulder and moved seamlessly into his schmoozing voice. "But don't worry, I know you only have eyes for me. He's too twitchy for a girl as classy as you."

I laughed in spite of myself and shoved him away from me.

"Why, Bella, why!" Mike called out in mock despair, stumbling after me as though he'd been shot through the heart. "I can change – I can practice silently staring at you for minutes on end! I know you love that in a man!"

By the time we arrived at the gym, I was feeling much better about the world. I had made my boundaries clear to Edward, and given him the opportunity to move past our first class together. He had stepped up to the plate and apologized even though he obviously felt uncomfortable talking about it. We had at least a little understanding between us, now.

The weight of worry over the first incident seemed to lift away from me and I felt cheerier than I had in weeks. I wasn't even bothered by the fact that Mike was forced to cover both our positions while playing badminton in P.E., something he did with good humor.

The rain was just a mist as I walked to the parking lot, but I was happier as soon as I got into the cozy cab of my truck. The heater roared to life and for once I didn't feel self-conscious about it. As I looked behind me before pulling out, I noticed the still white figure of Edward Cullen. He was leaning against the front door of the Volvo, three cars down from me. He was watching me intently. I caught his gaze for a moment before, looking away from him, I threw the truck in reverse. I wondered what he was thinking as I drove away. When I looked into the rearview mirror, I could swear I saw him smiling. It gave me an unexpectedly warm feeling, and I realized that in spite of everything, I sort of liked Edward.


	3. Chapter 3: Phenomenon

3. PHENOMENON

When I opened my eyes in the morning, something felt different. As though sensing things to come, I realized it was the light. It was still the hazy green light of the forest, but sharper. There was no fog clinging to my window. It became obvious immediately that it had snowed overnight. There was a fine layer of snow covering the world; the yard, my truck, and the road. But worse than that, the rain from the day before had clearly frozen solid. The pine needles looked deadly, coated in ice. Just looking at the driveway brought, unbidden to my mind, a dozen memories of times I'd fallen even when the ground was dry. I viewed the driveway with the trepidation a new mountaineer might direct toward Everest. Something I could only dream of conquering.

My father had left for work already when I arrived downstairs. I didn't see Dad as much as I'd expected. I'd never realized his work hours were so long, but I found that some days it gave me a sense of peace. Charlie wanted to be "Daddy" again, which meant he usually inquired about my day, my friends, and that sort of thing. But we were still largely strangers, and it was difficult for us both trying to maintain the new parts of our relationship.

I inhaled a bowl of cereal and a quick glass of orange juice. I couldn't stop thinking about Edward Cullen. What was going on between us? I hadn't ever had many crushes, so I wasn't certain if the fluttery feeling of attraction was supposed to be tainted with anxiety. I wasn't afraid of making a fool of myself around him, I was afraid of him turning back into the threatening creature he'd seemed like when we first met. Even so, I found myself thinking increasingly about the next time I'd be seeing him.

He was beautiful, and I couldn't deny the chemistry I'd felt when we'd touched. But even if we were in the same league, which we clearly weren't, I was suspicious of him. I hadn't forgotten the fear I'd felt at his hostility, and even when he'd been friendly he had acted strangely. And he'd lied about his eye color, though I didn't know why.

I picked my way down the driveway, nearly slipping to my death when I finally reached the truck. I barely saved myself from cracking my head open by grabbing the side mirror and clinging to it for dear life. It wasn't the best way to start my day.

As I drove to school, I found myself thinking about my new place in Forks. People here seemed to respond differently to me than they had in Phoenix. Especially the boys. I was sure I looked the same as I had in Phoenix, but maybe there was something else. Maybe it was because the boys here had missed the more awkward phases I went through in Phoenix. Maybe it was because I was a novelty, a fresh face and unknown perspective in a town that had few surprises. Or maybe it was simply that the community here was smaller, there were fewer leaders among them, and some of the popular students had taken a liking to me which made people more inclusive toward me.

Whatever the reason, though, I'd never known how to handle unwanted advances. Roy's crush on me in Phoenix had been sweet, and I'd liked him well enough. But just like Eric, who reminded me of Roy, I didn't feel attracted to him. I didn't connect with him. And Mike was a totally different animal, I wasn't even sure whether he was just flirting for the fun of it or if he was serious. I still felt that Mike had more serious feelings for Jessica than for me, but she was starting to seem jealous of the attention he showed me. I didn't want to hurt either of the boy's feelings, and I didn't want to jeopardize my friendship with Jessica because of Mike.

Things would have been simpler if the population of Forks had just ignored me, like I'd expected. I hadn't prepared myself for this possibility.

I drove slowly. Though I'd seen that morning that my dad had put chains on my tires for me, I was nervous of the ice. I didn't feel it slipping at all, but I thought it was better not to risk going too fast. I was just as careful as I lowered myself from the truck onto the slick parking lot.

When I looked at the chains on the tires again, my throat suddenly felt tight. I hadn't asked my dad to put them on, and he hadn't even mentioned to me that he was going to do it. He'd just seen the ice and thought I'd need them. It was strange to realize that I was being taken care of. When I was with my mom, I'd always felt like I was taking care of her. It was an amazing relief to know that someone was looking after me here. I took a deep breath, trying not to let the tears fall.

"Bella?"

I looked up from the tires, trying to keep my feelings hidden. Edward Cullen had parked next to me. I guess he'd seen the look on my face, because he seemed concerned. "Are you alri – " He was cut off by a high-pitched screech. We both looked toward the sound.

Several things became apparent to me instantaneously. Edward was standing a few feet to my side, looking in shock across the pavement. People around the lot were staring in the same mask of horror as the dark blue van skidded wildly over the ice, tires locked and squealing against the brakes. It was heading directly toward Edward.

It wasn't like in the movies, where everything slows down and the hero can make the right decision. It all happened in a few seconds, but the adrenaline that surged through me made me move faster than I thought possible. I threw myself toward Edward, grabbing hold of his arm and yanking with all my strength.

He was unmovable. I knew as soon as I felt the resistance against my grasp that I wasn't going to be able to pull him out of the way. It was too late. We would both be crushed.

I suddenly felt as if I'd been hit, and I tasted blood in my mouth. The overwhelming vibration and the grating sound of metal striking metal made it impossible for me to get my bearings for a long minute. But my world came into utter clarity when I was finally able to process what I was looking at.

Edward Cullen was in front of me, his arms surrounding me like a shield, my shoulders against the front of his Volvo. My eyes widened. The metal frame of the van seemed molded around Edward's body like tinfoil. For a split second I was certain he was dead. No one could survive a collision like that.

But then he moved. His eyes, wider than I had ever seen them, held mine for a long moment, and I realized that he wasn't injured. He didn't seem to have a scratch on him. His breath was coming in short, heavy bursts. He reached behind himself and pulled the frame back into place with a clang. Then he slid down into the open space that had tented between the two vehicles and crawled out into the open, his boots scraping against the ice. I watched him go, but didn't follow until he stuck his face back in and extended a long hand toward me. I took it and found myself pulled from beneath the car. As I emerged, a small smattering of relieved applause reached my ringing ears.

I felt warm blood dripping down my head, and my hands were scraped raw from the icy asphalt.

"Bella, are you alright?" Edward's voice was low, but thrumming with an urgency that I didn't understand.

"I'm fine." I said, my voice sounding very far away. My skull began to throb above my left ear. "Ow," I said, my hand rising to the injured place automatically.

"That's what I thought!" He gave a breathy, relieved laugh.

"How in the…" I trailed off, trying to understand what had happened. "How did you…"

"It was just luck." He said, partly to me and partly to the frightened crowd that was drawing in around us. "They just hit in the right way, I guess. They pushed each other up. I'd be dead if you hadn't knocked me to the ground." His tone had turned serious.

I leaned against the car. That wasn't what had happened. I saw it with my own eyes. I felt disoriented, looking at his face. What had I just been asking him?

Then they found us, a cluster of faces. Some of them had tears streaming down their cheeks, others simply looked pale and shaken. They were shouting at others in the crowd around us, shouting at us.

"Don't move!" Someone said to Edward and me. As if I could walk anywhere at the moment.

"Get Tyler out of the van!" Someone else shouted.

"You're not supposed to move an injured person!" Another voice shouted back. There was a flurry of activity as adult voices, voices of authority, began to give orders to the students. People started moving away from us. The nurse asked us if we were injured and checked our eyes with a flashlight before she went inside to call an ambulance, leaving the two of us alone, watching the action around the blue van.

"We should just stay put for now." Edward said, almost as though he were talking to himself.

"It's cold." I complained. He gave a huff of amusement, though I didn't know what was funny. I didn't notice he had moved until I felt him drape a blanket over my shoulders, apparently from the back seat of his car. I gave him a grateful look and hugged it around myself. It smelled clean and sweet.

"I didn't knock you down." I suddenly remembered. "The car smashed right into you. You protected me."

"No, I didn't." He said.

"I saw it. The metal, it just… bent around you."

"You have it wrong," Edward said abruptly, sounding upset. His emotions seemed to change the cadence of his speech, as if he'd forgotten an affected mannerism in the heat of the moment. "You pulled me over, and you knocked your head. You're just confused."

"I _am_ confused, but I know what I saw."

His eyes seemed to blaze gold. "Bella, please." It was a request, I knew. He wanted me to cover for him. He was more of an outsider than I'd even considered. This was something real, something that defied the laws of nature. "Please. Trust me."

"I do." I said. How could I not, after what had just happened? "Promise you'll explain it to me, later. After." I added.

He tensed his jaw for a painfully long moment. "Fine." He finally said.

"Fine." I repeated, though I couldn't muster the energy for anger.

It took six EMTs and two teachers to shift the van far enough away from us to bring the stretchers in. Edward tried to refuse his, but they wouldn't take no for an answer. He'd immediately alerted them to my head injury, of course, so I couldn't help but feel he deserved being forced to ride on a stretcher, too. He looked mortified and stared sullenly at the responders as they'd wheeled us into the truck.

His lot was nothing compared to mine, though. I had to suffer through them putting a neck brace on me, as the entire school seemed to gather around to watch. To make matters worse, my father arrived before the ambulance left.

"Bella?" He asked, the distress blooming on his face as he recognized me on the stretcher. I could already see the thoughts running through his head, finding some way to blame himself for this accident.

"I'm completely fine, Dad." I said firmly, though I still felt disoriented, something didn't feel quite right. "There's nothing wrong. They just want to check."

"You're in good hands, honey, don't worry." He said, though we both knew that he was the one worrying. "You just do what they say to do and they'll fix you right up, right as rain, before you know it."

He turned to talk to the EMT to find out what their assessment was, and I tried to make sense of the jumbled images in my head. When they'd lifted me away from the car, I'd seen the denting pattern in the metal. Although I was certain Edward had pulled the dent out of the car, there was still a strange buckling in the surface of the metal, where I remembered it shaping itself around the contours of Edward's shoulder.

And then there was the way his siblings had checked up on him as he lay, seething, on the stretcher. They hadn't seemed at all concerned about Edward's safety, approaching him as though he'd done nothing more than twisted his ankle on the curb. They were so close that they usually wouldn't even _talk_ to people outside their family, but they didn't show the slightest concern when their brother was nearly killed by a van?

I tried to connect these with the way Edward had almost pleaded that I use the story he gave. By saying he'd explain things, he'd confirmed that there was something different about him. Probably about his whole family. They had a secret, and I wanted to know what it was. What explanation could there be about what I'd seen him do?

Maybe I was just going insane.

The ambulance got a police escort to the hospital, which made the situation even more unpleasant. A throbbing head injury doesn't go well with even one blaring siren, much less two. I was beginning to feel it would be worth it just to give up on civilized life and maul the paramedics to escape, feeling embarrassed on top of ill as they unloaded me from the ambulance. The only thing that made it bearable was seeing Edward sitting up stubbornly as they pushed him through on his own stretcher.

They put me in the emergency room, a long room with a line of beds separated by pastel-patterned curtains. A nurse put a pressure cuff on my arm and a thermometer in my ear. As the nurse left, she pulled the curtain forward to give me some privacy. I used the moment to unfasten the uncomfortable neck brace and toss it to the floor.

There was a flurry of hospital personnel as they wheeled another stretcher in, and I saw from a glance that it was Tyler Crowley from my Government class. They moved him to the bed next to me, behind the curtain. I could hear them moving around and talking to one another in urgent, professional voices.

When the room went quiet and I was sure no one was near Tyler, I stood from my bed. I was rather wobbly and my head pounded, but I pulled the curtain back to see my classmate. I was wrong in thinking he was alone, there was still a nurse there. But she only cast a wary look my way, she didn't pull the curtain closed or ask me to get back in bed.

Tyler had bloodstained bandages wrapped tightly around his head, and his face was already swelling from the bruises. An IV hung from his arm. As I looked at him, stunned, his eyes opened. They were a clear, earthy green. I'd never noticed before. His gaze drifted toward me.

"Hey, new girl." He said drowsily. "Didn't mean to crush you with my car."

"I'm fine, Tyler. And I know it was an accident."

He reached a sluggish hand toward the bandage on his head and yanked feebly at it. He had always struck me as a strong, active-looking person and it was strange to see him so weak. I could see a myriad of shallow slices all over his forehead and left cheek. The nurse noticed him fumbling at his bandages just in time and stopped him. She recorded something on a clipboard and left. As soon as she was gone, Tyler's hand returned to the bandage.

"You'd better leave that alone, Tyler." I said. I reached out and gently touched his hand until he stopped tugging at the wrap.

"Thought I was gonna kill you." Tyler murmured. I felt horrible. It was alarming to see the state he was in, when I had come out in one piece.

"Don't worry, you missed me." I said.

"New girl…" he said again. He looked at me as though searching for something, and I realized he had forgotten my name. Of course. We'd never spoken, and I'd only been at school for a short while. I should have introduced myself to him.

"Bella." I said.

"Bella." He repeated. "Bella. There was someone else..? Did I hit him? Did I hurt Cullen?"

Tyler's disoriented speech unsettled me, and I folded my arms in front of my chest. I'd never seen someone so out-of-it.

"No, you didn't hurt him. He's alright. He's in better shape than I am, really. He's probably around here somewhere, but he didn't have a scratch on him."

Tyler sighed, and seemed to drift off. I walked backward to get back into my bed, but my eyes remained on him until the hospital workers returned. I was wheeled away to have my head x-rayed. They found I had a mild concussion, but told me it would be easily treated. They wouldn't release me yet, however, so I waited in the ER next to Tyler.

I felt trapped there, disturbed and dismayed at Tyler's condition. He couldn't seem to string more than a few words together at a time. He was a tall, broad boy but somehow the looming, industrial feel of the hospital made him seem very small and vulnerable. When they wheeled him away to give him a hospital bed in a room, I first felt relief and then guilt for feeling relieved. I knew it was far worse for him in that ER than it was for me. It seemed somehow wrong to feel relieved that he'd moved to a room, as though I were blaming him for making me uncomfortable.

Consumed with thoughts against myself, I reclined in bed and slid my arm over my face to cover my eyes. If I'd managed to sleep, or at least relax, it might have been a more tolerable experience. But I wasn't able to do it, and couldn't push the images of Tyler sleeping in his bandages from my mind. I stayed in that position for quite a while before I was interrupted.

"Is she sleeping?" I heard someone ask. Someone with a melodic way of speaking, someone I recognized. My arm dropped and my eyes flew open.

Edward Cullen.

He stood at the foot of my bed, a stony look on his face. I got the feeling he was trying to appear indifferent, though there was an edge of dark anxiety to it. The nurse he'd questioned walked away to let us talk.

"I heard they moved Tyler to a room of his own." Edward said.

"He was in really bad shape." I responded.

Edward was silent for a long moment. "Everyone's pretty confused right now. The shell of the car is barely damaged but the internal mechanics were pushed over a foot inward. I heard they had to use the jaws of life to get Tyler out, since the dashboard was thrust against him."

"So the inside of the car crushed him, and they can't figure out why the outside doesn't show the impact." I said. I had seen Edward snap the dent out of the frame of the car, which would have shown the outline of his shoulders if it had been left.

"And there wasn't any damage to my car, either." He said. He shook his head, his expression getting even darker. His tone quickly shifted to disgust. "Except a broken taillight. They can't figure out why that is."

I didn't know what to say. He was as good as admitting what had happened, but he was still being cryptic about it, acting as though it were news to him. Even though he failed to come out and speak plainly with me, though, he somehow made his feelings clear. He was disgusted with himself. He blamed himself for Tyler's injuries.

"Why would that be?" I asked, feebly hoping he would just tell me what was going on.

"I don't know." He said, his tone stubborn. His eyes, though, seemed almost pleading. He wanted to tell me what was happening, but he couldn't.

"Has anything like that happened to you before?" I asked.

"A few times, actually. But those are stories for another day."

It was as though he thought someone was listening in, even though we were alone together. I was about to point this out to him when a stranger walked into the room. It was a doctor, though I was shocked at his appearance. He was young – mid-twenties at most – and incredibly handsome. He had blonde hair that fell in front of his forehead, waving slightly at the tips, and carefully trimmed sideburns. He was quite short, probably only an inch taller than me, but his movements were strong and self-assured. Most striking was his skin; he was unusually pale, and his skin was the exact same tone as Edward's. He also shared the dark circles beneath his eyes. I knew without asking that this was Edward's father, Dr. Cullen.

"Miss Swan." He said, his voice like honey. He had an English accent. "I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen. I'm sorry it took me so long to get here – there was another doctor assigned to you, but your father insisted I check you personally. And since my son, Edward, was involved in the accident, it seemed appropriate." He gave me a reassuring smile, but something about it seemed rehearsed.

"So, Isabella. How are you feeling?" He asked.

"I go by Bella." I said. Carlisle gave off such a different vibe than Edward. He was overtly reassuring in manner but also seemed oddly self-aware. It was as though he thought behaving kindly somehow proved that he and his family were stable and compassionate.

"My apologies, Bella."

"I feel fine." I said.

"Well, I've checked your x-rays. You have a minor concussion, but if you follow our instructions for the next couple of weeks it should cause you no trouble. Does your head hurt too badly? Depending on your discomfort we may be able to prescribe some painkillers."

I shrugged. He put his cool fingers against my head, touching lightly against my skull. He noticed when I winced. "Tender?" He asked.

"Just a little, but it's nothing. I don't need drugs. I've bumped my head before."

I heard a chuckle and looked over to see Edward, giving me a vaguely patronizing smile. My eyes narrowed.

"Bella, I feel comfortable releasing you today. Your father is in the waiting room, I'll have him come in to see you. I'd like you to go home with him and rest. I mean it, too. Watch television on the sofa. You'll need to take it easy for at least a few days, and if you experience any dizziness or vision problems, come and see me again."

"Can't I go back to school?" I said. I knew my father would insist on taking care of me if I went home, which meant he'd be taking off work. I knew how frustrated he felt just spending more than a few hours indoors; I couldn't imagine how it would be for him to have to watch me for a whole day, or more.

"Sorry, Bella. I can't personally stop you from going, but I've informed the school of my position and I don't think they'll let you attend today or tomorrow. It's a liability issue."

I looked at Edward. "Does _he_ get to go to school?" I asked. I made an effort to sound bratty with it, though in reality I was mostly concerned that if he went back to school, he'd think up some excuse to prevent having to explain what had happened today. I needed to keep him here to find out the truth.

"Someone has to spread the good news that we survived. And people will want to know about Tyler." Edward said.

"Actually, most of the school seems to be in the waiting room." Dr. Cullen said.

Edward paused. "The principal let the whole school come visit us?" He asked.

Dr. Cullen smiled at his son. "I'm guessing the students didn't _ask_ to be let off, Edward."

Edward looked simultaneously touched and impatient. He didn't expect people to be there to support us, but he also wouldn't have the excuse he wanted to go back to school.

"Oh no," I moaned, covering my face with my hands. The last thing I wanted was to have to walk past the whole school after all this, having to feel their eyes on me and answer their questions.

"Would you rather stay?" Dr. Cullen asked, his eyebrows arched.

"No!" I insisted. I pushed myself from the bed as if to prove my strength, but I staggered. My head throbbed as Dr. Cullen caught and steadied me. He looked concerned.

"I just didn't realize how high the drop was," I said. He seemed to understand that my balance problems were a pre-existing condition, but kept his hand at my elbow.

"If you change your mind about the painkillers, just send your dad here and I'll take care of that for you. Otherwise, stick to Tylenol. I've given your dad instructions about what you can and can't take." He said.

"Don't worry. I'm fine, really." I said.

"It sounds like you were extremely lucky." Dr. Cullen smiled.

"Lucky Edward was standing next to me," I said as he signed my chart. He suddenly seemed very engaged with the paperwork, glancing to his son before nodding and stalking away and through the hallway. My intuition flickered. The doctor was in on it.

As soon as he was gone, I turned my gaze to Edward. He seemed unusually preoccupied with the hem of his jacket sleeve, but I wasn't fooled.

"So?" I said.

"Your father is waiting for you." Edward answered without hesitation.

"I want to know something first." I said.

He turned and stared at me, his eyebrows drawn together and his mouth set in a firm line. "What do you want?" He asked. His eyes were cold.

I felt intimidated by his surliness, but I couldn't allow myself to be deterred. "You owe me an explanation." I said stubbornly.

"I don't owe you anything." He said.

I set my jaw, upset but not surprised at his sudden reluctance to share with me. "You promised." I said.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe you imagined it." He said. His feigned ignorance cut at me. My temper flared.

"I didn't imagine anything, and you know it. You remember just as well as I do. You promised you'd explain. You practically begged you to use your story."

He seemed angered by my tone, and paced a few feet to the right. "What do you want from me, Bella?" He asked.

"I want to know the truth about what happened!" I said. "I want to know why I'm lying for you!"

He turned away from me, pacing again, but not leaving my area. He pushed a frustrated hand through his hair, his face torn. I could see that he didn't know what to do. This was a secret, I knew that much when I'd first covered for him, but he'd promised. He couldn't save me and then expect me just to go on, never questioning what had happened.

"You were holding it up, Edward. I saw you."

Edward's gaze shifted toward me. His body language changed, he folded his arms and leaned backward, looking at me with an air of skepticism.

"You think I lifted a van off you?" His projection was perfect, but I knew not to trust it. It sounded like a perfectly delivered line by a talented actor. I said nothing. "No one will believe that, Bella." He said.

"I wasn't going to tell anyone." I said.

"Then why ask at all?" He responded. "It doesn't even matter."

"It matters to me." I said. "That should be enough reason."

"Can't you just thank me and be done with it?" He asked desperately.

"I can thank you if you want. Thank you." I said. "Now tell me what happened."

"You're not going to let it go, are you?" He asked.

"No." I said.

Edward looked at me for another long moment, before giving me an unreadable look. "In that case… I hope you enjoy disappointment." He said.

I stared at him in silence. I wanted to be angry, to demand an answer, to grab him by the arm and keep him from leaving without telling me what I wanted to know. But something in his expression was so unhappy that I couldn't bring myself to say anything.

"If you won't tell me, then leave." I finally said.

He left.


	4. Chapter 4: Invitations

4. INVITATIONS

I was in the dark. All I could see around me was the movement of shadows. I groped the air, trying to get a sense of my surroundings, but no matter where I reached I couldn't find anything to hold onto. But I couldn't just stay there, in the dark, alone. I made myself move, walking toward nothing. Suddenly, in front of me was a wide shaft of soft light. It looked as if it were coming through an open doorway. Hovering in the light were innumerable tufts of feather down, illuminated brightly against the blackness.

I ran toward the light, toward my salvation.

When I reached it, the light spread to encompass me. Feathers drifted, swirling around me. I looked toward the doorway, but saw that it was actually a corridor. It was long and twisted, and covered in mirrors. Light was reflecting from them into the darkness I'd come from.

I stumbled through the hallway, disoriented by my own reflection. As I turned the last corner, I saw the source of the light. A figure.

Edward Cullen.

He appeared to be naked, but the light radiating from his body was so bright that the details of his nude form were indistinguishable. His hair looked gold, gleaming with the light. Only his face had any discernible features, most of all his eyes. They were black and empty.

I stepped toward him, reaching my hand out. He moved neither his arms nor legs, but seemed to glide away from me. I continued to walk, but he was just out of my reach. I began to run, chasing after him, lunging and clawing with my hands. I was desperate to touch him.

Finally I did; I grabbed his long, slender wrist in my hand. It was cold and smooth as metal, unfeeling and inhuman. At my touch he wheeled around, his face suddenly mere inches from mine. I stared into the empty eyes, terror in my chest.

"Trust me." His voice whispered, though his lips did not move.

"I do." I said.

He grinned, his teeth gleaming, and he clamped his hand around my neck.

...

I woke up with a start, my heart hammering in my throat.

This happened every night for over a month. I never seemed to get enough sleep, and the recurring dreams had become deeply alarming. Having a cryptic, strangely terrifying dream once was not unusual for me. But I'd never had any recurring dreams, much less something so persistent. The longer I had it, the less able I was to decipher any subconscious meaning from it, and the more unsettling I found it.

School was tense, and I was easily overwhelmed or embarrassed. Though I was becoming closer and closer with my new friends, I hadn't managed to feel at home. I blamed the dream, the one thing that kept me from feeling safe when I went into my bedroom.

To my discomfort, I found myself the center of attention for the rest of that week. Tyler Crowley remained in the hospital, though his condition was quickly improving. Still, until he returned to school, I was the object of public news as the middle ground of injuries. Edward was unhurt from the crash, making him uninteresting to the public, and Tyler wasn't yet back in classes, making him unavailable. I had been hurt and I was already back, making me the target of dozens of people I barely knew asking me the same questions I'd heard a hundred times already.

On the other hand, Tyler had been calling me from his cellphone every evening to talk to me about what had happened. He called me the first few times under the guise of checking up on me, and I sensed he felt guilty for putting me in danger. But after we'd talked a few nights in a row, we began to have genuinely entertaining conversations. I found that I had a lot of things in common with Tyler, and enjoyed his sense of humor, something I hadn't expected. He wasn't the sort of person I usually spent much time around. But by the end of the week, I felt he was calling because we were friends, not because he felt guilty. It was nice.

At school, no one seemed concerned about Edward. Though he'd been the person in the line of the van, everyone acted as though I were the real victim. I explained again and again the ice sent the van toward Edward, not me, but people didn't like him and he hadn't been hurt, so they weren't interested. Jessica, Mike, Eric and everyone else always commented that they'd been sure I was a goner until the van was pulled away and they saw I'd performed some heroic feat of speed to save a bystander. He was just a prop in their story, they didn't care about him.

Edward was never surrounded by curious classmates eager for his firsthand account. People avoided him as usual. The Cullens and the Hales sat at the same table as always, not eating, talking only amongst themselves. None of them glanced my way anymore, least of all Edward.

When he sat next to me in class – as far from me as he could manage – Edward ignored me entirely. He was obviously aware of my presence, but he seemed to have decided he wanted nothing to do with me. The only reactions he gave me were when his fists tensed up, skin stretched even whiter over bones, any time I spoke in class.

I tried to speak to him, at first. The first day back, when my anger and disappointment had faded, I'd tried. He'd been already seated when I got to Biology, looking straight ahead. It reminded me of how Dad held himself when he was uncomfortable.

I sat down, expecting him to turn toward me. Instead he remained motionless, not so much as acknowledging my presence. He simply shifted himself away from me.

"Hello, Edward." I said, trying to be pleasant. It was hard when his behavior made me so self-conscious.

He turned his head a fraction toward me without meeting my gaze, nodded once, and then looked the other way. His hand gripped his knee so hard that I wondered if he would have a bruise.

That was the last real contact I had with him, even though he was there with me every day, sitting a foot away. I watched him frequently, though, unable to stop myself. I watched him from a distance in the cafeteria, or the parking lot. I watched him walk through the halls with his fluid gait. I watched him turning the pages in his textbook and I watched the movement of his pen across paper during our class together. I watched as his golden eyes grew darker and darker, drawing closer to the terrifying black they'd been the first day we'd met.

It was almost to the point that I didn't care who – or what – he was. My fascination wasn't with any of his siblings, who appeared to have the same strange characteristics. It was only with him. It was personal.

Although I tried to be upbeat for my mother and father's sake, my mom could tell from the tone of my e-mails that I was feeling down. She called a few times, worried. It was all I could do to convince her I was alright, and that it was only the weather getting to me.

Mike, it seemed, wasn't pleased by the coolness between my lab partner and I. His theatrical flirtations continued, and it was clear to me that he picked up on how unhappy I was about the situation with Edward. He began to sit on the edge of my table every day, before Biology started, to talk. He ignored Edward as completely as Edward ignored us. Though I always gave him a skeptical look when he began waxing poetic, his attentions did usually cheer me up. I was grateful for that.

The snow washed away after that one dangerously icy day. Mike was disappointed that he'd never gotten to stage his snow battle, but he was pleased that the delayed beach trip would soon be possible. The rain continued heavily, though, as time passed.

It was early March when Jessica made me aware of another event looming on the horizon. She called me one night to ask whether I thought Mike would go with her to the spring girls' choice dance.

I knew she was asking me because she was insecure. Mike was a flirt and he laid it on really thick and though I wasn't the only girl he treated with such love-story charm, he seemed to especially enjoy proclaiming his love to me. I'd known that Jessica had her doubts about whether or not he was only joking, when it came to me, and I'd been unable to tell her either way. I didn't know myself. But just in case, she wanted to make sure I wasn't interested in Mike before she asked him.

"Are you sure you don't mind… you weren't planning to ask him?" She asked.

"No, Jess, I wasn't going to ask him. He's a friend, but I'm not interested. I don't think he's serious when he says that stuff, anyway. Besides, I'm not going to the dance." Dancing was glaringly outside my abilities, and I'd never been one for school-sponsored social activities. I'd decided the week before that I'd go to Seattle the weekend of the dance to find a bookstore. I'd run out of options at the meager library in town.

"Really, Bella? It's going to be really fun!" Jessica said, though she sounded rather relieved. I wondered if she still thought there was something to Mike's behavior, and wished I could reassure her. I knew, though, that it was less about her not trusting me and more about her own self-esteem. Whatever I might say, I doubted I could convince her that Mike was interested in her if she didn't believe it already.

"You have fun with Mike." I encouraged. "I have plans already."

The next day in Trig and Spanish, Jessica seemed over the moon, even more so than usual. It was obvious that Mike had agreed to go to the dance with her. She was already chattering about dresses and hair and what kind of music would they play and did I think Mike's parents would let him drive their convertible and so on and so on. I was pleased that the two of them were going together.

During lunch, while Jessica was talking animatedly with Angela about what they were going to wear, Mike slid into the seat next to me, doing his best 'cool' pose with his arm hooked over the arm of his chair and his legs trailing off to the side.

"Didn't break your heart, did I, brown eyes?" he grinned.

"I'm afraid I'll never recover." I said, rolling my eyes and smiling.

"When Jess first asked me, I wasn't sure. Cause I'm a man of honor, and I pledged myself to you for all eternity. I could tell you were looking forward to our life together, you know, with the picket fence and the towheaded children and all the rest."

I laughed, though I suddenly thought I saw Edward look in my direction across the cafeteria.

"But then my golden girl asked me to the dance, and I just had to follow my heart. I hope you understand. But I just want you to know, like, if you need a shrink or something I'll pay for it. I take care of my girls."

Edward turned away again, and I looked back to Mike. I'd been pulled out of the moment and it took me longer than usual to come up with a response.

"Well, Mike, it'll be hard but I'm sure I can survive without professional help." I finally said, smiling again. "Though you'd better cool it with all the 'my girl' stuff, Jessica will end up murdering me. And that's something even professional help couldn't save me from."

Mike laughed and brushed his hand through his hair, something I hadn't seen him do before. For the first time I realized he must spend a lot of time maintaining the disarray.

The bell rang and we walked to Biology together. Edward was already in his seat when I arrived, and he caught my eye for the first time in weeks. I sat down and Mike grinned at me from the edge of the table.

"Gotta say, though, brown eyes…" Mike said. "I really thought you would ask me! Since I'm such a catch and all."

I shook my head, smiling. The conversation suddenly seemed embarrassing, with Edward listening in. "Sorry to burst your bubble, then." I said. "But your 'golden girl' is my friend. And I'm a person of dignity; I wouldn't give in to a scoundrel like you."

"A scoundrel! Ouch!" He said, pulling a face of exaggerated insult. "Did you ask someone else, then?"

"No," I assured him. "I'm not going to the dance."

"Why not?" He asked, looking genuinely surprised.

"I'm going to Seattle that Saturday." I explained. "I'm not really into the whole school dance thing, and I knew it would be impossible to get out and do something else with everyone in town getting dressed and dined and driven around for the stupid thing. I decided I'd take a day in the city, I haven't really been yet."

Mr. Banner called everyone to their seats, and Mike strolled back to his own table. I sighed, glancing down at my notebook. I felt eyes on me as I did so, and looked up again.

Edward was staring at me curiously, that same edge of frustration in his black eyes. I stared back, startled, expecting him to look away. But instead he continued to gaze with probing intensity into my eyes. I wanted to look away myself, but it seemed to somehow be a challenge, and I was too stubborn to let him win. My hands started to shake.

"Mr. Cullen?" the teacher called, having apparently just asked a question.

"The Krebs Cycle." Edward answered immediately, finally turning his eyes away and back toward the teacher.

I looked down at my book as soon as his eyes released me, trying to find my place. I couldn't believe the rush of emotion pulsing through me – just because he'd happened to look at me for the first time in a handful of weeks. I couldn't allow him to have this level of influence over me. It was pathetic. More than pathetic, it was unhealthy.

I tried very hard not to be aware of him for the rest of the hour, but I was shaken up. When the bell rang at last, I turned my back to him to gather my things. It was a blessing when Mr. Banner called my name and asked me to come to speak with him. I saw Edward hesitate at the table, as if debating whether to wait behind. It was strange enough that he hadn't just bolted the room as he usually did, but he seemed to realize it would be inappropriate for him to stay and he walked into the hallway.

"I noticed you seemed a little distracted today," Mr. Banner said.

"Yeah… I guess so." I responded.

"I saw Edward Cullen acting a little strangely, too."

"How can you tell?" I heard myself say, and was shocked at the snide tone in my own voice. Mr. Banner gave a surprised chuckle.

"Well, I understand if he makes you a bit uncomfortable. I want you to feel this school is a safe place. If you want me to switch partners for you, I will."

Inexplicably, I felt rejection of the idea. Someone else partnered with Edward? I couldn't let that happen.

"No, that's alright Mr. Banner. He really didn't upset me. I just don't understand him, is all."

"He's had a troubled life." Mr. Banner said. "He's not very good with people. He's gone through a number of lab partners, people seem to feel uneasy around him. He isn't dangerous, though. Just, let me know if you two have trouble working together, alright?"

I nodded to him and left the room, wondering what troubled life Edward had led that I didn't know about. I realized I knew nothing about his life at all.

"Bella?"

Of course. He was waiting for me in the hallway, and somehow I felt certain he'd heard the entire conversation I'd just had with Mr. Banner. I turned slowly, unwillingly. I didn't want to deal with the flood of bizarre emotion when I looked at his face. My expression was wary when I turned to him, his expression was unreadable. He didn't continue.

"You're speaking to me again." I said.

"I guess not. Not really." He said, his lips twitching with the hint of a smile.

"Then what do you want, Edward?" I asked, folding my arms.

"I just want to say… I'm sorry. I know I'm being horrible. It's just better this way, really." His face was serious. "It's better if we're not friends. Trust me."

Hearing him say 'trust me', as he did every night in my restless dreams, made my heart race. I swallowed, taking a deep breath to calm myself down.

"It's too bad you didn't figure that out earlier." I said flatly. "You could have saved yourself all this regret."

His face flashed with confusion. "Regret? For what?"

"For not just letting that stupid van squish me."

He stared at me in disbelief. "You think – you think I regret saving your life?" He sounded almost angry.

"What am I _supposed_ to think?" I asked stubbornly. "Go on and tell me, what am I supposed to think about you? You can't just act this way and then expect me to trust you! I don't trust you. I don't _know_ you. Maybe if you had trusted _me_, I could."

He sucked in a breath. "You don't know anything." He snapped.

I turned my head sharply away from him, clenching my jaw against the wild accusations I wanted to hurl at him. I wanted to walk away from him, but my foot caught in the strap of his bag, which was on the floor. I tripped and sent my books flying.

I righted myself with as much dignity as possible and briefly considered just abandoning my belongings in the hall, abandoning school altogether and driving off in the middle of the day. But before I could talk myself out of it Edward thrust my books back into my hands. He'd somehow managed to gather them all so quickly I didn't even get to complete my thought. His face was hard.

"Thank you." I said icily.

"You're welcome." He said. His eyes narrowed and he cast his glance away. "And I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable, like Mr. Banner thinks. I guess I'm just too troubled to manage."

Edward walked off in the opposite direction as I was heading, and was gone before I could respond. Something about the bitterness in his voice at our teacher's comments had struck a chord in me that made me want to feel sorry for Edward. But I wouldn't let myself feel that way, not this time. He had deserved what I'd said.

The rest of the day was unpleasant. I was caught up with thoughts of Edward, and by the time the final bell rang, I felt exhausted. It was a relief to leave. I wasn't interested in running into anyone on the way out, I just wanted to go home, so I tried to be as anonymous as possible as I pushed through the crowd to my truck. I passed the spot where the accident had happened. There was still the black streak of a tire mark on the pavement, one of the few places Tyler's van had skidded over that hadn't been iced. His family had had to sell the van for parts.

I started noticeably when I reached my truck and saw a tall, dark figure leaning against the side of it. I saw it was Eric, and was able to breathe again.

"Hey, Eric." I called.

"Hi," he said.

"What's up?" I asked. I hadn't even realized he knew this truck was mine, but he was clearly waiting there for me. I saw Edward walk by, not looking at us. He stood next to his own car to wait for his family.

"I was just wondering…" Eric said. His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "Would you be interested in going to the spring dance with me?"

"I thought it was girls' choice," I blurted, startled. He'd tried to ask me out once before, but I hadn't expected him to try it again after the first attempt had been interrupted. He was a braver person than I'd thought.

"Oh. Yeah, it is. I just thought…" He trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

I tried to smile gently at him, but I felt bad. He was a nice person, and I didn't want to let him down. But I wasn't going to lead him on, either. "I'm going to be in Seattle that day, Eric. But thank you for thinking of me."

"Oh. Well. Maybe next time," he said, looking downcast.

"Eric, you know, I think Angela might like to go to the dance." I said as he started to walk away. He looked back at me, surprise on his face.

"You think?" He asked.

"But, you know how shy she is." I added. "She was going to ask – someone – today, but I think she was too shy to do it."

He seemed to understand my meaning, and I was glad to see a look of hope on his face.

"Thanks, Bella." He said. "I'll go see if I can find her before she leaves."

Eric waved and left, and as I moved to get into my truck, I could see Edward staring at me. I slammed the door and locked it, watching as he climbed into his own vehicle. I could see his four siblings walking his way, and considered taking out the rear of his shiny Volvo before they got there. Unfortunately, I was surrounded by witnesses. I drove home.

As I prepared dinner that night, the phone rang. I expected it to be one of my parents, but it was Tyler. We talked as I stirred simmering onions and chilies for the enchiladas I was making. He had been allowed to return to school this week, though he was still moving fairly slowly because of his fractured knee.

For a moment, I wondered if I should join Jessica at the dance after all, and ask Tyler to be my date. He was the one guy I'd met at school that I was attracted to and actually thought I was compatible with, the only one who I had bonded with on a personal level. But the more I thought of it, the worse an idea it seemed. I'd already told three people I was going to be in Seattle, and Tyler was still recovering from his injuries. Besides, if I did ask Tyler, it would be like slapping the others in the face, like saying that I could be convinced to go if a better person asked me. I didn't want to give the impression that I thought I was better than them.

Tyler and I had a good chat, discussing the lack of merit that autotune had ushered into the music world and whether or not I should try to persuade my dad to get me a puppy or a kitten. Our conversation ended when Tyler's mother called him for their own meal, and I had to fight a pang of jealousy that his parents were still together. It was hard to be away from my mom for such a long time, and for a moment I missed her desperately. I could have talked to her about the boys, but it wasn't the kind of thing you could talk about in email. I would have called her, but I didn't know what number to dial. Her cellphone was trapped in one of the seats in Phil's car. They could hear it beeping because of its low battery, but had been unable to pin down its location yet.

I diced the chicken as Edward Cullen returned to my thoughts. I found myself analyzing every word he'd spoken today. Why did he think it would be better if we weren't friends? Why did he wait until now to actually say it, after treating me like a leper for so many weeks?

My stomach twisted. He must somehow think I was absorbed with him, asking after his secret the way I had, maybe he didn't want to lead me on. Of course, that didn't really make sense, either. Ignoring someone for six weeks _definitely_ didn't constitute leading them on. Besides, that concept only worked if I ignored the shared experience we'd had. It seemed foolish to think that what I knew about Edward had no bearing on the situation. He could lift full-size vans with his bare hands. That had to have something to do with all this avoiding.

Well, regardless. That was fine. We wouldn't be friends. I didn't have to spend my life worrying about what Edward Cullen thought or did. I would leave him alone. I would get through my self-imposed sentence here and then hopefully go to school in the Southwest, or maybe Hawaii. I would apply for scholarships and loans and go to school somewhere with sunny beaches and palm trees. I would go out and be social with Mike and Jessica and Angela and Eric, and maybe if things went well I would go to the next dance with Tyler. I put the enchiladas in the oven.

Dad seemed wary about the food when he came home, but he was a hungry cop and was brave enough to take that first bite. He seemed to like it, and wolfed down the first portion before I'd even gotten halfway through mine. It was fun to see him slowly begin to trust me in the kitchen.

"Dad?" I asked when he was helping himself to seconds.

"Yeah?"

"Um, I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to Seattle for the day a week from Saturday. If that's okay?"

"Why?" he sounded surprised. I hadn't asked to go out of town at all since I'd first arrived here.

"Well, I wanted to get a few books – the library here is pretty limited – and maybe look at some clothes." I had some spare money, since my father had paid for my truck, though it was quickly being whittled away to pay for gas. I wanted to spend some of it on myself before it was all gone and I had to find a job.

"That truck probably doesn't get very good gas mileage," he said, echoing my thoughts.

"I know. I'll stop in Montesano and Olympia – and Tacoma if I have to."

"You want to go all by yourself?" He asked. I could see the red flag behind a question like that.

"Yes."

"Seattle is a big city – you could get lost." He said.

"Dad, Phoenix is five times the size of Seattle."

"And if it had been up to me, I wouldn't have let you wander around Phoenix alone, either!" He said. The overprotective attitude that had bothered me in the past was awakening.

"I can read a map, Dad. I won't get lost." I tried not to get angry, that wouldn't help my cause.

"Maybe I should come with you." He said.

"Dad!" I protested. "I'm just going to the shops. And I'll probably be in dressing rooms all day, anyway."

He sighed, looking conflicted. He obviously didn't want to go along to sit around in clothing stores, but he hadn't let go of his worry about me going to the city alone. "Isn't the dance that day?" He finally asked.

I should have expected he would know when the dance was. The police here probably had to handle the usual underage drinking and driving issues whenever there was a big school function like a dance. It seemed unfair that my father knew the schedule of school dances without me even mentioning it, like he was trying to push me into attending.

"I don't dance." I said. "Remember ballet? Those lessons traumatized me."

"Oh, that's right." He laughed. Thankfully, neither one of us had to point out my balance problems to explain my lack of groove. I hadn't inherited the clumsiness from my mother.

"Well. You can go, but I would really feel better if someone went with you."

...

The next morning, I parked as far as possible from the silver Volvo. I didn't want to put myself in Edward's path. Getting out of the cab, I fumbled with my keys. They dropped into a puddle at my feet. Sighing, I bent to get them. Before I could, a white hand flashed out and snatched the keys up.

I stood quickly. Edward Cullen was leaning casually against my truck.

"How do you do that?" I demanded.

"Do what?" He held my keys out to me as he spoke. I grabbed them from him.

"Appear out of thin air."

"It's not my fault if you're exceptionally unobservant." He said softly, with a low chuckle.

I frowned at him. "Your eyes are light again today." I said, taking in the sight of them. They were a deep, golden honey color. His face seemed to close off at my comment, as though he were drawing into himself to prevent exposing what he was thinking. I pushed past him to get my bag from my car and lock the door of the cab. "What do you need, Edward? I thought you were supposed to be pretending I don't exist."

"I'm not pretending you don't exist." He said, exasperated.

"So you're just trying to irritate me to death? Since Tyler's van didn't finish the job?"

Anger flashed in his face. His lips pressed into a hard line, all signs of humor gone.

"You're being melodramatic." He said, his voice cold.

My palms tingled. I badly wanted to hit him, which surprised me. I was usually a nonviolent person. I turned my back and started walking away.

"Wait," he called. I kept walking, sloshing angrily through the rain. But he was next to me, easily keeping pace.

"I'm sorry, that was rude." He said as we walked. I said nothing. "It was rude to say that. Even if it's true."

"Why won't you leave me alone?" I asked angrily.

"I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me." He gave me a lopsided smile, his humor apparently returning.

"Do you have a personality disorder?" I asked.

"I don't know, maybe." He said thoughtfully.

I was surprised by his tone. He not only seemed unbothered by my sharp comment, but he made it sound as if he was actually considering it as a possibility. It was almost endearing, though it was unusual, too. He normally seemed to be easily annoyed by other people.

"What is it, then?" I asked.

"I was wondering if, a week from Saturday – you know, the day of the spring dance – "

"Are you trying to be _funny_?" I interrupted, wheeling toward him.

Amused delight flashed across his face for a moment, and for the first time it occurred to me that he _was_ trying to be funny. "Do I get to finish?" He asked. I bit my lip.

"I heard you were going to Seattle that day, and I was wondering if you wanted a ride."

I stared at him blankly. "A ride with who?" I asked stupidly.

"With whom." He corrected. "And I meant a ride with me, obviously."

I was still stunned, enough that I didn't even feel irritated at his correcting my grammar. "Why?"

He shrugged. "I was planning to go to Seattle in the next few weeks, and… well, to be honest, I'm not sure your old truck can make it."

"My truck will be fine." I said, turning to walk away.

"Can your truck make it there on one tank of gas?" He matched my pace again.

"I don't see how that's any of your business." What was he playing at?

"The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business."

"Really? Then I should advise you that it's more eco-friendly to buy your clothing used." I glanced at his designer wear. Everything he had on looked as if it were being worn for the first time.

Edward gave me a tickled look. "I don't actually pick any of this stuff out. Alice has made it her job to dress us all." He said, suddenly flashing a broad smile. "But I take your point."

"Honestly, Edward." His name felt good on my tongue. I hated it. "I can't keep up with you. I thought you didn't want to be my friend."

"I said it would be better not to be friends, not that I didn't want to be." He said.

"Right. Now that that's all cleared up…"

We had stopped walking again. We were under the shelter of the cafeteria roof, where I could more easily see his face.

"There are things about me that… it would be more prudent if you weren't my friend. But it's too hard, after the accident. The other day, I asked you to trust me. And you said I hadn't trusted you. I couldn't stop thinking about that. You were right. And I guess… I mean, you haven't told anyone what really happened. I know you haven't. I really believe you are someone I could… know. Who could know me. I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella."

His eyes were intense as he uttered that last sentence. The world seemed to drop away from us as I looked at him. I tried to shake myself back to reality, recognizing the little rush of fear in my stomach even as it vanished, but there was something captivating about those eyes.

"Will you go with me to Seattle?" He asked.

I nodded. He smiled, looking suddenly shy.

"I'll see you in class." He turned abruptly and walked back the way we'd come.


	5. Chapter 5: Blood Type

5. BLOOD TYPE

I was late to English, to my embarrassment, but as Eric and Mike met me by the door after class and walked with me through the halls, I began to feel better. Mike was enthusiastically talking about the weather report for this weekend, hoping that the beach trip would finally be possible while we had a break from the rain. I tried to sound eager, even though I knew that rain or no rain, it would only be in the high forties at the beach.

All morning I was preoccupied with the thoughts of Edward Cullen, and the trip we would be taking. I was impatient and nervous when Jessica and I entered the cafeteria, looking automatically toward the Cullen family's table. Jessica seemed too excited about her plans for the dance to notice my timid behavior, but she did notice when I stopped walking. The other four were at the table, but Edward was gone.

Confused, I went through the line with her. I didn't have any appetite, so I just bought a bottle of lemonade. As I walked with Jessica toward our table, she spoke.

"Edward Cullen is staring at you again," she said, finally breaking through my distraction with his name. "I wonder why he's sitting alone today."

My head snapped up. I followed her gaze to find Edward, smiling crookedly at me from an empty table across the cafeteria from where he usually sat. Once he'd caught my eye, he raised one hand and motioned with his index finger for me to join in. I stared in disbelief. He winked.

"Does he mean you?" Jessica asked, stunned. I couldn't blame her, I was stunned too. "He's so weird. Why does he stare at you like that? Why doesn't he just come over and talk to you like a normal person?"

Jessica's tone insulted me, though I couldn't explain why. Edward _did_ behave strangely, and I could see that she found his body language in this situation to be unsettling. But Mr. Banner had said Edward had a troubled life. That might explain his lack of social awareness, something I wasn't any expert at myself.

"Maybe he needs help with his Biology homework." I suggested.

"Right!" Mike laughed, sitting down next to Jessica. He gave her a private smile before glancing at me and looking over his shoulder back toward Edward. "Edward Cullen needs _help_ with his _homework_. And he is beckoning you with his greatest 'come hither, I require your special service' look. All us guys use the crooked finger and sultry wink combo to signal our readiness… for tutoring."

I pulled a face at Mike, standing. I put my bag over my shoulder. "I'm going to go see what he wants." I said, though I stuck my hand into Mike's carefully disheveled hair as I walked by, flattening the entire back side of it.

"My 'do!" I heard him protest as I walked away.

When I reached the table, I stood behind the chair across from Edward, unsure.

"Why don't you sit with me today?" He asked, smiling.

I sat down automatically, watching him with caution. He was still smiling. It was hard to believe someone could actually have such a beautiful face, that he could be real. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something.

"This is different." I finally managed.

"Well…" he paused, and the rest of the words followed in a rush. "I decided as long as I'm going to hell, I might as well make a ride of it."

I didn't know how to make sense of that. The seconds ticked by.

"You know I don't have any idea what you mean." I eventually said.

"I know." He smiled again, though he seemed to be smiling to himself. "Your friends seem to think I've stolen you away." He changed the subject.

I glanced over my shoulder to see them staring at me, and then talking to each other. I could see Jessica giggling at something Mike said. I frowned.

"They'll survive." I said. "I think they mostly thought the way you waved me over was strange."

"I may not give you back, though." He said with a wicked glint in his eyes, glossing past my comment about his behavior.

I lifted my eyebrows at him.

Edward laughed. "You look worried!"

"No," I said. My voice broke. What was I supposed to say? That he hadn't exactly been the pillar of emotional stability the past few weeks? That he'd warned me away from him more than once, and was now acting as though he'd never said anything like that? That he was joking about stealing me away when I hardly knew him, when we were both to be going out of town together _alone_ soon? That I _was _worried? "Just, surprised." I finally added. "What brought all this on?"

"I told you – I got tired of trying to stay away from you. I'm giving up." His eyes were serious, though the smile lingered on his lips.

"Giving up." I repeated.

"Yes – giving up trying to be good. It's too much pressure. I'm just going to do what I want now, and let the chips fall where they may." His smile faded as he explained, a hard edge creeping into his voice.

"I don't understand." I said.

The breathtaking smile reappeared. "I always say too much when I'm talking to you – that's one of the problems."

"Well, I don't understand any of it."

"I'm counting on that." He said, wryly.

"So… does that mean we're friends now?" I asked, brushing my hair out of my eyes.

"Friends…" he mused, dubious. "Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you now that I'm not a good friend for you."

"You've already warned me. In fact, you say that a lot." I tried to ignore the sudden trembling in my stomach.

"That's because it seems like you're not listening to me. I'm still waiting for you to believe it. If you're smart, you'll avoid me."

"You've made your opinion on the subject of my intellect clear, too."

He gave me an apologetic smile.

"So as long as I'm not smart, we'll try to be friends?" I asked.

"That sounds right to me." He responded. I looked down at my hands wrapped around the lemonade bottle, not sure what to do now.

"What are you thinking?" He asked suddenly.

I looked up into his deep gold eyes, and blurted out the truth. "If you think I don't believe you may be a bad friend, you might not be in the position to judge who's smart and who isn't." I said, a little more hotly than I'd intended. At the hurt surprise on his face, I amended my comment. "I haven't forgotten the things you've done. The way you've treated me sometimes."

He looked at his hands, then, but I continued.

"I haven't forgotten the good things, either. I want to know you better. And I'm just… trying to figure out what you are."

His jaw tightened, but he kept his face impassive. "Are you having any luck with that?" he asked in an offhand tone.

"Not much." I admitted.

He chuckled. "What are your theories?"

I blushed, keeping my mouth shut.

"Won't you tell me?" He asked, tilting his head to the side with a tempting smile.

I shook my head. "It's embarrassing."

"That's really frustrating, you know." He said.

"Oh, yeah? I can't imagine what's frustrating about that. Just because someone refuses to tell you what they're thinking or answer your straightforward questions, all the while making cryptic little remarks specifically designed to make you wonder… now, what's frustrating about that?"

He scowled.

"Or even better, say a person also did a wide array of bizarre things – from saving your life under impossible circumstances one day to treating you like a pariah the next, never explaining why they are acting that way or how they were able to save you, even though they promised. There's nothing frustrating about that, either."

"You're kind of sarcastic, aren't you?"

"I don't like double standards."

We stared at each other silently. Edward's glance shifted, and I lifted my eyebrow in an unspoken question.

"Your boyfriend seems to think I'm upsetting you, he's debating whether or not to come break up our fight." He gave a humorless huff of laughter.

"I don't have a boyfriend." I said. "But I doubt any of my friends would do that."

"I told you, I find most people very easy to read."

"How do you know your readings are right if you never actually speak to the people you're watching?" I asked.

"Trust me. I can read people." He said, looking irritated again.

"Except for me."

"Yes. Except you." His mood shifted suddenly, his eyes burning at me. "I wonder why that is."

I shrugged, unscrewing the lid of my lemonade. "Because you don't know me." I finally said. I took a swig of my lemonade.

"Aren't you hungry?" He asked, distracted.

"No." I didn't feel like mentioning that my discomfort surrounding him had made me lose my appetite. "You?" I gestured at the empty table in front of him.

"No, I…" he paused, a strange expression on his face though he was enjoying some private joke. "I have a restricted diet."

"Can you do me a favor?" I asked after a moment of hesitation.

"What kind of favor?" Edward asked, looking wary. "It depends on what you want."

"It's not much." I said. He waited, guarded but curious. I continued. "Could you warn me beforehand, next time you decide to ignore me? Just so I'm prepared."

"That sounds fair." He said with a self-effacing smile.

"Thanks."

"Can I have one favor in return?"

"One."

"Tell me _one_ theory."

I blinked. "No, not that."

"You didn't qualify, you just promised one answer." He reminded me.

"You've broken promises yourself." I said.

"Just one theory – I won't laugh."

"Yes you will."

He looked down, and then glanced up at me through his long black lashes, his gaze scorching. "Please?" he breathed. My mind went blank.

"Er, what?"

"One little theory, that's all."

I sighed, frowning at him. "Well, maybe you were bitten by a radioactive spider?"

He smiled, looking down at his hands. "You think I'm Spiderman?" He said. "That's just a comic book, Bella."

"I don't exactly have a wealth of real-world examples to draw on here, Edward."

"You're not even close," he teased.

"No spiders?"

"Nope."

"Radioactivity?"

"None."

"Mutant ability?"

"Not that I know of."

"Power ring?"

"I don't wear jewelry."

"Dang."

"And Kryptonite doesn't bother me, either." He chuckled.

"You're not supposed to laugh, remember?"

He composed his face into a picture of seriousness, and I found that I was feeling more at ease with him. Although I was still cautious, he seemed so genial and genuine at the moment. I didn't get the impression that he was putting up a front at all. I wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

"I'll figure it out eventually," I warned him.

"I wish you wouldn't try."

"Why?"

"What if I'm not the hero? What if I'm the bad guy?" He looked away from me.

"Oh," I said. "I see."

"Do you?" His face was abruptly severe, as if he were insulted by the idea that I presumed to understand him.

"You think you're dangerous. It's what you've been hinting all along. Not very subtly, either." He just looked at me. The smoldering was gone from his eyes, leaving only emptiness behind. "Even if you are dangerous, you're not bad. I don't believe you're bad. No matter what you think, you have the choice to be good. You can be what you want, Edward."

"You're wrong." His voice was almost inaudible. "I don't have a choice anymore."

The cap of my lemonade bottle was between his fingers and he was spinning it against the table. He watched it, brooding, and I watched him, fascinated. Something about him was captivating, and he was more than aware of the effect his physical appearance had on me – probably it had the same effect on a lot of people – but he wasn't used to people trying to connect with him and speak to him on any real level. He was comfortable with shallow conversation, but when I tried to delve deeper, he pulled away. He was unlike the other people I knew, and I found that I badly wanted to know who he really was.

The silence lasted until I noticed that the cafeteria was almost empty. I jumped to my feet. "We're going to be late."

"I'm not going to class today." He said, continuing to twirl the lid distractedly.

"Why not?"

"It's healthy to ditch class now and then." He tried to smile at me, but it came off half-hearted. He still looked troubled.

"Well, I'm going." I told him. He nodded absently, not meeting my eyes.

I paused. "Whatever it is you're trying to avoid, I don't think it's going to work." I added. "Some problems just have to be faced."

Edward's eyes lifted, as though I had said something he'd never heard before. He stared at me for a long moment before he finally said, "Not today, they don't."

The first bell rang, and I knew I couldn't hesitate any longer. I turned to leave, looking over my shoulder as I reached the cafeteria doors. He was still watching me.

I was lucky; Mr. Banner wasn't in the room yet when I arrived. I settled quickly into my seat, aware that both Mike and Angela were looking at me. Angela looked desperately curious, and when I met Mike's eyes, he waggled his eyebrows at me with a knowing smirk. I rolled my eyes and looked back to the front of the room.

It wasn't long before Mr. Banner entered, sweeping around the room to drop small cardboard boxes on each of the tables. He began to explain what each of us should have in our boxes. I pulled out the indicator card and, as Mr. Banner described the last piece in each kit – a sterile micro-lancet – I realized what we were doing.

Blood typing.

"I'll be coming around with a dropper of water to prepare your cards, so please don't start until I get to you." He began at Mike's table, carefully putting a drop of water in each of the squares. "Then I want you to carefully prick your finger with the lancet – "

He grabbed Mike's hand, ignoring the mild sound of protest from the student, and jabbed the spike into the tip of Mike's middle finger.

"Aaah!" Mike said, it was the first time I'd seen him with a genuinely upset look on his face. "You should warn people before you do that!"

"If I warned you, you wouldn't have done it." Mr. Banner replied. "Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs." He said, moving Mike's hand to squeeze the blood out. Clammy moisture broke out across my forehead and I swallowed convulsively, my stomach heaving.

Mr. Banner continued talking, but I closed my eyes, trying to will the ringing out of my ears. I finally put my cheek against the cool black tabletop and listened to the squeals, complaints and giggles that signaled my classmates beginning their own blood withdrawals.

"Bella, are you alright?" Mr. Banner asked. I could tell he was standing in front of me, but I didn't want to risk moving. I hadn't even eaten anything at lunch, but I felt queasy.

"I already know my blood type, Mr. Banner." I said in a weak voice.

"Are you feeling faint?"

"Yes, sir." I wished I'd ditched class with Edward Cullen, but I had the feeling he was ditching in part because he wanted to end our conversation before it became too personal.

"Mike, can you take Bella to the nurse, please?" He called. I heard Mike stand and walk over to me.

"Can you walk?" Mr. Banner asked.

"Yes." I said. I braced myself and stood. _I will not throw up. I will not throw up. I will not throw up._

Mike put his hand against my back as I toddled toward the doorway, and when I stumbled on the sidewalk outside, he caught me around the waist and pulled one of my arms over his shoulder to steady me. I accepted his support as I tried to get my land legs back.

"Wow, you look really green, Bella. You're not going to hurl on me, are you?" Mike asked, his voice as jovial as usual, though when I looked at his face I could see genuine concern.

"Bella?" a different voice joined the conversation. I groaned inwardly. Edward. "What's wrong – is she hurt?" His voice was closer now, and I closed my eyes.

"She didn't just faint, did she?!" Mike said, and I opened my eyes to glare at him. He looked relieved that I was still conscious. "It wasn't even your finger!"

"Bella." Edward said. "Are you okay?"

"No." I grumbled. "Go away."

He laughed softly.

"I'm taking her to the nurse." Mike explained. "I didn't want to make her go faster than she thought she could go."

"I'll take her." Edward said. I could hear a smile in his voice. "You can go back to class."

Mike was quiet for a moment, before he looked at me. I could see that Edward's careless dismissal of him had made him angry. "It's up to you, Bella. I'll stay with you if you want."

"It's okay, Mike. Go on back to class." I said. Mike nodded, though he cast a serious look at Edward before he turned to go back.

I tried to walk again, to head toward the nurse's office. When I staggered, Edward moved forward, taking the same position Mike had used to steady me.

"You look awful." He told me.

"Same to you." I retorted.

"So you faint at the sight of blood?" he asked. The idea seemed to amuse him. "And not even your own blood?"

He pulled the door to the infirmary open, and a gust of warm air hit me. We went inside.

"She fainted in Biology." Edward said to the nurse.

He helped me onto the crinkly paper that covered a brown vinyl mattress. It was the only cot in the room. The grandmotherly nurse put her novel aside and stood to move toward me. She didn't look at all alarmed.

"She's just a little faint, I think. They're doing blood typing today."

The nurse nodded sagely. "There's always one." She said. Edward smiled crookedly at her. "Just lie down for a minute, honey; it'll pass."

"I know," I sighed. The nausea was already fading.

"Has this happened to you a lot?"

"Sometimes." I admitted. "I'm kind of clumsy, so…" Edward coughed, and I had the suspicion he was covering a laugh.

"You can go back to class now," the nurse told him, apparently thinking the same thing. She didn't seem amused with his lack of empathy.

"I'm supposed to stay with her." He said, with such assuredness that she didn't argue it, just clucked her tongue and turned toward another door in the room. I was surprised at how easy it was for him to lie.

"I'll go get some ice for your forehead, dear."

When she was gone, I looked to Edward. "You were right. It's healthy to ditch class sometimes."

He smirked. "You scared me for a minute there," he admitted afterward. His tone made it sound like he was confessing a humiliation. "I thought Mike Newton was dragging your body off to bury."

"Har har." I said. I was beginning to feel better.

"Honestly – I was concerned I might have to avenge your murder. I've seen corpses with better color."

"You've seen corpses?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

He hesitated, the smile fading from his lips. "Maybe." He said quietly.

I didn't know what to say to that.

"Mike doesn't like me very much." He said, though he didn't sound bothered by the fact.

"You can't know that." I responded.

"I saw his face – I could tell."

"How could you see us? I thought you were ditching." I wished I'd eaten something at lunch. I was sure the queasiness would have passed entirely by now if I had.

"I was in my car listening to a CD." Somehow, such a normal response surprised me coming from Edward.

We were interrupted, then. "We've got another one." The unflappable nurse said. She held the door. Mike staggered through, supporting a sallow-looking Lee Stephens. I shifted from the cot, freeing it up for someone who looked much worse than I felt.

"Oh, no. You should go outside, Bella. Trust me." Edward said.

I spun and caught the door before it closed, darting out of the infirmary. I could feel Edward right behind me.

"I'm surprised you listened to me," Edward said.

"I smelled the blood." Lee hadn't been sick from watching other people, like me.

"I don't think people can smell blood." He contradicted.

"Well, I can. That's what makes me sick, it smells like rust… and salt."

Edward looked at me with an unfathomable expression, but before I could say anything, Mike had emerged from the infirmary, panting from carrying Lee so far. He glanced from me to Edward to me again.

"You look better," he said.

"Just keep your hand in your pocket," I warned him.

"It's not bleeding anymore." He said. "Are you going back to class?"

"Are you kidding? I'd just end up back here." I responded.

"Yeah, you're probably right. And if I have to carry another person to the infirmary, I think my legs'll give out. Though you're light as a feather, brown eyes." He rubbed the back of his hand against his forehead. His cheeks were rosy from the cold and the exertion. "So, are you going this weekend? To the beach?" He flashed another glance toward Edward, who was staring off into space as though he weren't listening.

"Sure, I said I'd go."

"We're meeting at my dad's store, at ten." His eyes flickered to Edward again. I realized he didn't intend this to be an open invitation, and began to think Edward might be right that Mike didn't like him. Of course, Edward hadn't gone out of his way to ingratiate himself.

"I'll be there." I promised.

"See you in Gym, then," he said, beginning to move away.

"No you won't." I said, giving him a smile. "I think I've exerted enough effort for the day." Mike grinned back at me, amused at my attempt at deviant behavior, and gave me one last wave before he turned and headed back to Biology.

"I'll get you a note," Edward said, his voice showing the same enjoyment at my decision to ditch my last class. He slipped back into the infirmary, and when he returned he was clutching two slips of paper.

"I got a slip for myself, too." He explained. "I told her I wanted to drive you home."

He handed one to me, and I felt the shock as our fingers touched. A fine, cold mist began to fall around us. It felt nice – it was the first time I could remember ever enjoying moisture falling from the sky – it washed my face clean of the sticky perspiration.

"Thanks," I said as we walked together. "It's almost worth getting sick to miss Gym."

"Anytime." Edward seemed to appreciate the rain more than I did, and turned his face ever-so-slightly upward, to catch it on his skin.

"Do you want to come, this Saturday?" I was hoping he would. It was strange that in one day, my feelings about Edward Cullen had changed so drastically. I was still unsure of him, but I felt so much more comfortable with him now than I had ever thought I would. I didn't think he would accept the invitation, though; it was hard to imagine him piling into a van with the rest of us, he didn't seem to belong in the same world. But just hoping that he might gave me the first real twinge of enthusiasm for the outing.

"Where are you going, exactly?"

"Down to La Push, to First Beach." I studied his face, trying to read it. His eyes seemed to narrow slightly.

"I really don't think I was invited." He said.

"I just invited you." I said stubbornly.

He shrugged. "I'm actually not allowed to go there."

"Why aren't you allowed?" I asked, shocked. That sort of a rule made no sense to me.

"Carlisle's had some problems down there. He's worried we'll get caught up in it." He was being vague, but I didn't push it.

"Come on, Edward. This is your chance to get to know these guys. They're good people, really. You'll like them if you give them a chance." I said. "Maybe your dad doesn't have to know."

"He's not my dad." Edward said quickly, though he didn't sound angry.

"Sorry, I thought…"

"I'm adopted. I'm sure someone's told you that, before. Carlisle adopted me before we moved to Forks."

"Yeah, someone did tell me you were adopted. Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." I said. "But… maybe Carlisle doesn't have to know. Surely he doesn't know you ditch class sometimes, right? This can be our secret, too."

He hesitated, looking at me. For a moment, I had the sense that he was about to tell me everything. But the moment passed, and he still looked undecided.

"I don't think so, Bella." He said. "It might push Mike's buttons."

"He doesn't have any buttons," I said, grinning. "He's the easiest going person I know. I've never even seen him angry until Mr. Banner grabbed his hand and stabbed him with that lancet."

Edward smiled vaguely. "Well, we'll see." He said. I knew he probably wouldn't show up. Once a person got used to being alone, it was hard to break habit. I knew how it felt.

We arrived in the parking lot. "Do you want a ride home?" Edward asked.

"I've got my truck." I said.

"I can have Alice drop it off for you," he said. "If you give me the keys."

I smirked at him. "How do I know you're not just trying to steal my cool ride?"

Edward laughed, the sound musical. "I promise you I have no designs on that dinosaur." He said. "Nor will anyone else in my family."

"Hey, I love that truck!" I said defensively.

"And paleontologists love dinosaurs." He countered. "It doesn't mean they'd want to put their life in the hands of one."

I shook my head and followed him to his car. I slid into the passenger side. He turned the key and fiddled with the controls, turning the heater up and the music down. As he pulled out of the parking lot, I was searching for something to say to him. Then I recognized the music playing, and my curiosity got the better of my intentions.

"Clair de Lune?" I asked, surprised.

"You know Debussy?" He seemed surprised, too.

"Not well. My mother plays a lot of classical music around the house, I only know my favorites."

"It's one of my favorites, too." He said. He stared out the window as we both absorbed this pleasant commonality. I listened to the music, relaxing against the ash grey leather seat. It was impossible not to respond to the familiar, soothing melody. The rain blurred everything outside the window into grey and green smears. I began to realize we were driving very fast; the car moved so evenly that I didn't even feel the speed. Only the town flying by gave it away.

"What's your mother like?" he asked me suddenly. He was studying me with curious eyes.

"She's more outgoing than I am, and much braver. She lives with her head in the clouds, though, so she can be reckless and irresponsible, too. She's always singing, or painting. And she's a very unpredictable cook." I felt homesickness hit me hard and fast. "She's my best friend." I said.

"How old are you?" His voice sounded frustrated. As he pulled into the driveway, I realized we were already at my house. The rain was so heavy by then that I could hardly see outside.

"Seventeen." I responded, a little confused.

"You don't seem seventeen."

I laughed. "My mom says I was born thirty-five years old, and that I get more middle-aged every year. But someone has to be the adult. You don't seem much like a junior in high school yourself." I noted. "Except when you sulk." I grinned at the face he made.

"Why did your mother marry Phil?"

I was surprised he remembered Phil's name; the only time I'd talked to him about Phil had been two months ago. It took me a moment to answer.

"He makes her feel younger." I said. "She's crazy about him."

"Do you approve?" he asked.

"I want her to be happy, and he's who she wants." I shrugged.

"That's very generous." Edward said. "I wonder…"

"What?"

"Would she extend the same courtesy to you? No matter who your choice was?" He was intent, his eyes searching mine.

"I think so," I said tentatively. "But she's the parent. It's a little different."

"Not just anyone, then?" he teased.

"Did you have someone in mind?" I asked.

"So if someone was too scary, she'd put her foot down?" He continued as though he hadn't heard me, though I saw a smile flash across his face at my comment.

"What do you mean by scary? Multiple facial piercings or tattoos? Big knife scars? A forked tongue?"

"Those are some definitions, I suppose."

"What's your definition?"

He ignored my question to ask me another. "Do you think I could be scary?"

I thought for a moment, wondering whether the truth or a white lie would be better. "I know you can be." I said.

He went quiet, then, and he turned to me with something that looked surprisingly like insecurity on his face. "Are you frightened of me now?"

"No." I answered. He looked relieved.

"Are you going to tell me about your family, now?" I asked. "It's got to be more interesting than mine."

He was cautious. "What do you want to know?"

"You said you're adopted… what happened to your parents?"

"I never knew my father." He said. "My mother died, though. Years ago. She got very ill." His tone was matter-of-fact.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Carlisle and Esme are my family now."

"And you love them." It wasn't a question. Although he'd corrected me before, when talking about Carlisle, it was obvious from the way he spoke that he cared deeply for them.

"Yes." He smiled. "I can't imagine two better people."

"You're lucky to have them."

"I know I am."

"What about your brother and sister?"

He looked at me in silence for a moment. "My brother and sister, and Rosalie and Jasper for that matter, are going to be very upset if they have to stand in the rain waiting for me."

"Oh, sorry. I guess you have to go." I didn't want to get out of the car.

"And you probably want your truck back before Chief Swan gets home, so you don't have to tell him about leaving school early." He grinned.

"It's a lost cause anyway; there are no secrets in Forks." I sighed dramatically.

He laughed, though there was an edge to it.

"Listen, about my brothers and sisters." He paused. "They're very private. It's not my place to share their stories if they don't want to."

"I understand." I said. As curious as I was, I knew it wasn't unreasonable for him to want me to respect his family's boundaries. I got out of the car and watched as he drove away.


	6. Chapter 6: Scary Stories

6. SCARY STORIES

I tried to concentrate on the third act of _Macbeth_, but all I could manage to do was listen for my truck. I'd thought, even over the pounding rain, that I'd be able to hear the engine's roar. I wanted to know my truck was back, and I wanted to meet Edward's sister. But I never heard the engine; when I went to peek out the curtain – again – it was suddenly there, the keys on the front seat.

Friday went well, though it was clear from the lack of a shiny Volvo in the parking lot that Edward wasn't there. Of course there was teasing about the fainting, a story which Jessica seemed to especially get a kick out of. Mike had kept quiet about Edward's involvement, though, so no one asked about that. I did get questions about our lunchtime together, but they were easy to brush aside. In reality, not much had happened at lunch. It was the things I felt and saw when I was with him that made our encounters so unusual, and just describing what had happened didn't seem to be as interesting as other people hoped.

At my usual table, everyone was full of plans for the next day. Mike was especially animated, proclaiming his everlasting trust and devotion to the local weatherman that had promised sunshine tomorrow. I was more skeptical, but Mike wouldn't be persuaded to accept that it may rain in spite of the weatherman's predictions. He pointed to the fact that it was warmer today – almost sixty – as hard proof that the outing wouldn't be miserably cold and wet.

Walking in the hall, I heard Lauren – another girl who sat at our table – make a few unfriendly comments about me. I was certain she didn't know I was behind her as she walked with Mike.

"Why does she even sit with us? She can go sit with the Cullens." She said dismissively.

"Why do _you_ sit with us? You can go sit in the parking lot." He said cheerfully. I saw her shoot an annoyed look at him. He saw it too, and amended his comment. "She's my friend." He said flatly. Their conversation seemed to be over, which was fine by me. I didn't want to hear any more.

...

I meant to sleep in, but an unusual brightness woke me. I opened my eyes to see a clear yellow light streaming through my window. I couldn't believe it. I hurried to the window to check and, sure enough, there was the sun. For the first time I noticed how different it looked in the sky here; it was in the wrong place, too low, and didn't seem to be as close as it should be. But it was there! Though clouds ringed the horizon, a large patch of blue stretched across the middle. I didn't know how long it would last, but I was much more hopeful about the outing, now.

The Newton's Olympic Outfitters store was just north of town. I'd seen the store several times, but I'd never had cause to go in to shop. I wasn't especially outdoorsy, after all. When I entered the parking lot, I recognized Mike's Suburban and Tyler's Sentra. As I pulled up next to their vehicles, I could see the group standing around in front of the Suburban. Eric was there, along with two other boys I had class with; I was fairly sure their names were Ben and Conner. Jess was there too, flanked by Angela and Lauren. There were three other girls I knew by face, but couldn't remember the names of.

"I told you it would be sunny!" Mike said gleefully when I got there. "A glorious day is in the making, mark my words."

"Don't worry, I mark all your words down in my Mike Diary." I said. He laughed; it was obvious he was in a great mood.

"We're just waiting for Lee and Samantha. Unless you invited someone?"

I saw Lauren watching me, looking unimpressed. "I invited Edward, but I don't think he's going to come." I said. There was a mixed response, but people didn't seem too worried. Even they knew Edward was someone who didn't voluntarily go to social functions.

"You can ride in my car, or in Lee's minivan." Mike said.

"I'll ride in yours," I said.

"M'lady's riding shotgun, though," he said with a sage nod. "That's the VIP seat." I could see Jessica grin at me, and returned the smile.

In the end, however, I had to sit next to Jessica on the front seat. Lee had brought two extra people, and suddenly every seat was necessary. It was only fifteen miles to La Push from Forks, with gorgeous, dense green forests edging the road most of the way and the wide Quillayute River snaking beneath it twice. I was glad I had the window seat. We'd rolled the windows down – the Suburban was a bit claustrophobic with nine people in it – and I tried to absorb as much sunlight as possible.

I'd been to the beaches around La Push many times in the summers I spent in Forks with my dad, so the mile-long crescent of First Beach was familiar to me. It was still breathtaking. The water was dark, even in the sunlight, white-capped and heaving to the grey, rocky shore. Islands rose out of the steel harbor waters with sheer cliff sides, reaching to uneven summits and crowded with austere firs. The beach only had a thin border of sand at the water's edge, after which it swelled with large, smooth stones shining dark and wet. They looked uniformly grey from the distance, but I knew that up close they were every color imaginable: terra-cotta, sea green, lavender, blue-grey, dull gold. The tide line was strewn with huge driftwood trees, bleached bone white in the salt waves, some piled against the edge of the forest fringe and others lying solitary, just out of reach of the waves.

There was a brisk wind coming off the water, cool and briny, which I loved. Pelicans floated on swells while seagulls and a solitary eagle wheeled around the sky above them. The clouds were still in a circling above us, but for now they seemed content to stay where they were in the sky.

We picked our way down the beach, Mike leading the way to a ring of driftwood logs that had clearly been used for parties before. There was a fire circle already in place, filled with soot and ashes. Eric and Angela gathered broken branches of driftwood from the drier piles against the forest edge, and had soon built a pile of firewood shaped like a teepee.

"Ever seen a driftwood fire?" Mike asked, as Ben and Lee pulled some coolers from the back of the minivan to bring over to the fire ring. "It's like magic."

"No," I admitted. He stuffed a small pile of tinder under the teepee, setting it ablaze with a lighter.

"You'll like this, then." He said, lighting another section of the tinder. The flames began to lick up the side of the dry wood.

"It's blue!" I said in surprise. Some of the others were standing around to watch it being lit, and they seemed amused at my reaction.

"The salt does it. Pretty, huh?" Mike said. He sat on the log next to me, with Jessica on his other side. "I made blue fire for you, baby." He schmoozed to Jess, and she claimed his attention as I watched the strange blue and green flames crackle toward the sky.

After a half hour of getting settled, some of the others wanted to hike to the nearby tidal pools. I immediately agreed to go with them; I loved the tide pools. Since I was little, they had fascinated me, and were one of the few things that I always looked forward to when I had to come to Forks.

Lauren didn't want to hike, and definitely had the wrong shoes for it, and Tyler's knee was still recovering so he wasn't up for walking. A small group of us, including Mike, Jess, and Angela decided to go while the others stayed on the beach. I gave Tyler a squeeze on the shoulder as I went with the others, and he smiled at me.

"We'll have food ready for you when you get back," he said. "I think I know what you'll like."

I could see Lauren glaring at me, but I shook it off. If she had a problem with me, it was her own problem to deal with.

The hike wasn't too long, though I hated to lose the sky to the trees. The mystical feel of the woods was strangely at odds with the teenage laughter, too prehistoric feeling to be in harmony with the light banter of my friends. I had to watch each step I took very carefully, avoiding roots below and branches above, and I soon fell behind. Eventually I broke through the emerald confines of the forest and took a deep breath as I found the rocky shore again. It was low tide, and a tidal river flowed past us on its way to sea. Along its banks were the shallow pools that never completely drained. They were teeming with life.

I found a stable-looking rock on the fringe of one of the largest pools as the others daringly leaped over rocks and perched precariously on the edges of other tide pools. I sat cautiously, spellbound by the natural aquarium below me. The bouquets of brilliant anemones undulated in the invisible current. Twisted shells scurried about the edges, obscuring the crabs within them. Starfish stuck motionless to the rocks and each other, and one small black eel with white racing stripes wove through the bright green weeds, waiting for the ocean to return. I was completely absorbed, except for one small part of my mind that wished Edward were here with me.

Finally the boys became hungry, and we all got up to go back to the beach. I tried to keep up better this time through the woods, but I ended up with a soaked knee and a scraped palm. Still, it could have been worse. When we got back to First Beach, the group had multiplied. I could see the shining black hair and the copper skin of the newcomers – teenagers from the reservation come to socialize – as food was being passed around. The tide pool group hurried to claim a share while Tyler introduced us all.

Angela and I were the last to arrive, and, as Eric said our names, I noticed a younger boy sitting on the stones near the fire glance up at me. I could swear he looked interested, but as I sat next to Angela and Mike, I was more concerned with my food.

"This sandwich is perfect," I said to Tyler.

"I must have learned a few things from our talks over the phone. I guess I can only hear you prepare dinner so many times before I start to pick up on your tastes." He grinned, shifting his crutches to lean on the log next to him.

The boy who looked to be the oldest of the visitors from the reservation rattled off the names of the others with him. All I caught was that one of the girls was also named Jessica, and the boy who noticed me was named Jacob.

During lunch the clouds started to advance, flowing across the blue sky and darting in front of the sun momentarily, casting long shadows across the beach. People began to wander off in twos and threes, some walking to the edge of the waves and others gathering to go to the tide pools again. Mike and Jessica headed up to the one shop in the village. Some of the locals went with them, and others went along on the hike.

By the time they'd all scattered, I was sitting alone on my driftwood log. Tyler and Lauren were absorbed with the CD player someone had brought, arguing over which CD to play next. I wanted to listen to Tyler's, but since Lauren had already expressed distaste for me, I chose not to say anything about it. I didn't think Tyler liked her at all, anyway. She had moved his crutches without him noticing, which forced him to ask her for help when he'd wanted to get up again. Three teenagers from the reservation perched around the circle, including the boy named Jacob.

A few minutes after Angela left with the hikers, Jacob picked his way over to take her place by my side. He looked fourteen, maybe fifteen, and had long, glossy black hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. His skin was beautiful, silky and russet-colored, and his eyes were dark, set deep above the high planes of his cheekbones. He still had just a hint of childish roundness left around his chin. Altogether, a very pretty face.

"You're Bella Swan, aren't you?"

I nodded, trying to place him.

"I'm Jacob Black." He held out his hand in a friendly manner. "You bought my dad's truck."

"Oh," I said, relieved, shaking his hand. "You're Billy's son. I probably should remember you." Of course, I hadn't even remembered who Billy was when my father had mentioned him to me. But I seemed to remember – when I was younger – spending time with some reservation kids while my dad and his buddies were fishing. Jacob was probably one of them.

"Nah, I'm the youngest. You'd probably remember my sisters."

"Rachel and Rebecca," I suddenly recalled. We were all too shy to make much progress as friends. "Are they here?" I looked toward the girls at the water's edge, looking for familiar faces.

"No, Rachel got a scholarship to Washington State and Rebecca moved to Hawaii and married a Samoan surfer."

"Wow!" I said. "Married." I was stunned. The twins were only a little over a year older than me, and I certainly couldn't imagine getting married so young. That's what my mom and dad had done, and I knew how that had turned out.

"How do you like the truck?" he asked.

"I love it. It runs great."

"Yeah, but it's really slow!" He laughed. "I was so relieved when Charlie bought it. My dad wouldn't let me work on building another one until we got rid of that one; he said it was silly to start another when we had a perfectly good car already."

"It's not _that _slow." I objected, though I was more curious. Jacob had built my truck?

"Have you tried to go over sixty?"

"No," I admitted.

"Good. Don't." He grinned.

"So you build cars?" I asked, impressed.

"When I have the time and parts. You wouldn't happen to know where I could get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?" he added jokingly. He had a pleasant, husky voice.

"Sorry," I laughed. "I haven't seen any lately. But I'll keep my eyes open for you." He was very easy to talk with.

He flashed a brilliant smile, looking at me appreciatively. I wasn't the only one who noticed.

"You know Bella, Jacob?" Lauren asked, sounding bored. I wondered why she seemed to dislike me so much.

"We've sort of known each other since I was born," he said.

"How nice." She said, no enthusiasm in her voice. "Bella, I was just saying to Tyler that it was too bad none of the Cullens could come today. Didn't you say you invited them?"

I glanced at Tyler, and he gave me an apologetic look. I shrugged, which alerted Lauren to the silent communication happening between the two of us. She turned to look at him in annoyance. "What?" He said.

"You mean Carlisle Cullen's family?" A tall, older reservation boy asked before I could respond. His voice was very deep, and he looked closer to a man than to a boy.

"Yes, do you know them?" She asked, strangely condescending in her tone. I got the feeling Lauren didn't like people who were different from her.

"The Cullens don't come here." The boy said with a tone of finality.

Sensing that Lauren was about to start a problem, Tyler distracted her with the CD he held.

I stared at the deep-voiced boy, taken aback. He was looking away toward the dark forest behind us. He'd said the Cullens didn't come here, but his tone had implied something more. It was as though he was supporting what Edward had told me before. They weren't allowed on the beach, they were prohibited. When Edward had told me about it, it had sounded like a family rule. This sounded like something else.

Jacob interrupted my thoughts. "Forks driving you insane yet?"

"That's an understatement," I said with a hint of a smile. He grinned understandingly. "Hey, walk down to the beach with me." I suggested, and Jacob jumped up willingly enough.

As we walked along the multihued stones toward the driftwood seawall, the clouds finally closed ranks across the sky, causing the sea to darken and the temperature to drop. I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket.

"So you're what, sixteen?" I asked. I didn't want to offend him by suggesting he was younger than he really was.

"Actually, I just turned fifteen." He confessed. He looked flattered. "I'm tall for my age."

"Do you come up to Forks much?" I asked. I hadn't seen him around, and I was sure my dad would have pointed him out to me.

"Not too much," he said with a frown. "But when I get my car finished I can go up as much as I want. Well, after I get my license, anyway."

"Who was that boy Lauren was talking to? He seemed a little old to be hanging out with us."

"That's Sam – he's nineteen."

"What was that he was saying about the doctor's family?" I asked.

"Oh, the Cullens? They're not supposed to come onto the reservation." He looked away, out toward James Island. It seemed common knowledge that the Cullens weren't supposed to be there.

"Why not?"

He bit his lip. "I'm not supposed to talk about that stuff." He said.

"I won't tell anyone. I'm just curious," I smiled.

He smiled back, looking flattered again. It struck me that he might consider my attention unusual, he probably didn't talk to girls much. He lifted one eyebrow. "Do you like scary stories?" he asked ominously.

"I love them," I said.

Jacob strolled to a nearby driftwood tree with huge, twisted roots exposed. We sat down on the roots. He gazed at the rocks, his smile lingering. I could see he was going to try to make this good.

"Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from? The Quileutes, I mean."

"Not really," I admitted.

"There are lots of legends, some of them claiming to go all the way back to the flood. They say the ancient Quileutes tied their canoes to the tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive, like Noah and the ark." He smiled. "They say we're descended from wolves, and that wolves are our brothers. It's against tribal law to kill them."

He shifted on the log, and I knew he was about to get to the thing I really wanted to hear. Whatever it was that caused the Cullens to stay away from here.

"There are also stories about another creature. The cold ones."

"The cold ones?" I asked skeptically, my eyebrows rising.

"There are stories about them that are just as old as the legends about the wolves, and then there are some that are more recent. Supposedly my own great-grandfather knew the cold ones, he's the one that made the treaty to keep them off our land."

"Your great-grandfather?"

"He was a tribal elder, like my dad. The cold ones are supposed to be the natural enemies of the wolf men, like our ancestors."

"Werewolves have enemies?"

Jacob smiled. "I don't know," he said. "Doesn't every story have good guys and bad guys? The cold ones are the bad guys."

"I guess so." I said.

"So you see," Jacob continued. "The wolves and the cold ones are enemies. But there was a clan of them that came to our territory, in my great-grandfather's time. They were different. They weren't dangerous the way the others were. So my great-grandfather made a truce. They don't come on our land, and we don't tell everyone what they are."

"If they weren't dangerous, then why would you tell?"

"The cold ones usually feed on humans, but they travel in disguise so that people won't know. These ones didn't hunt humans, they hunted animals instead. But there's always a risk, there's always the chance they could get too hungry to resist. So, as a little security for our own community, my great-grandfather made sure they would never come onto our land."

Fed on humans? I blinked. "How does it fit in with the Cullens? Are they like the cold ones your great-granddad met?"

"They're not like them – they're the same ones."

I stared at Jacob blankly. He mistook my expression for fear and smiled reassuringly before continuing. "There are more of them now, a new girl and a new boy. But they're the same – my great-grandfather knew Carlisle, the leader. He'd been here and gone before your people ever arrived."

"So, the cold ones… eat humans? What are they?"

He smiled darkly. "Vampires." He said. "They drink human blood to live."

I watched the surf roar against the rocks, not sure whether my feelings were obvious to Jacob. They certainly weren't obvious to me. "You have goosebumps," Jacob said after a moment.

"You're a good storyteller." I responded automatically, eyes on the dark water.

"Pretty crazy stuff, though, huh? No wonder my dad doesn't want us to talk about it to anyone. Makes us look kind of loony."

"Don't worry, I won't tell." I smiled.

"Good, because I think I just violated the treaty!" He laughed. "Really, though, please don't tell Charlie. He was pretty upset when he found out some of us wouldn't go to the hospital because Dr. Cullen works there."

"I won't say a word."

"So do you think we're a bunch of superstitious natives, or what?" he asked in a playful tone. I could sense the real worry behind his words, though, so I pushed his shoulder with mine playfully.

"Of course not. You're just really good at telling scary stories. I still have goosebumps." I held up my arm.

The sound of displaced rocks alerted us to someone approaching. We looked up at the same time to see Mike and Jessica about fifty yards away, walking toward us.

"There you are, Bella." Mike called, grinning when he spotted Jacob. "You like them young, I see!"

I rolled my eyes, though Jacob looked mildly insulted. I was tremendously grateful to Jacob for sharing his story with me, and I winked at him, carefully turning away from Mike to do so. He smiled.

"So, when I get my license…" he began.

"Come visit me in Forks. We can hang out sometime." I liked Jacob, he was someone I could easily be friends with. I wished I remembered him more clearly from our time as children, but it was enough to have met him again.

Mike and Jessica had reached us now, though Jessica looked annoyed that Mike had dragged her all the way down here to find me. "What've you two been doing, mm?" Mike asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Jacob was just telling me some local stories," I said. "It was really cool."

I smiled at Jacob warmly, and he grinned back.

"Well, we're packing up – it looks like it's going to rain soon." We all looked up at the glowering sky. It certainly did look like rain.

"Okay." I jumped up. "I'm coming."

"It was nice to see you again." Jacob said.

"It really was. Next time my dad comes down to see Billy, I'll tag along."

"Cool." Jacob grinned.

We left, then, and walked back toward the cars. I was a lot more tired than I'd expected to be, but when I saw him I felt rejuvenated.

Edward was standing just beyond where we'd parked, his hand against the back of his head self-consciously. Some of the others had already spotted him and walked over to talk, curious that he should show up so late. He looked oddly uncomfortable, which surprised me. I'd never seen him look that way before. He usually seemed so sure of himself, even when he was being evasive or running away. I walked over, seeing a number of eyes flickering from Edward to me and back again.

"Edward!" I said. "I didn't think you were coming."

Edward gave me a small smile. "Well, I got bored." He said. "Are you having fun?"

"I thought you weren't allowed here?" Lauren said, folding her arms at him. She had wandered over with the others to see what Edward had to say for himself. "That's what the reservation boy said."

Edward seemed unimpressed, giving her a steady look. "Carlisle doesn't come here and he doesn't like us to come, either." He confirmed. "But that's really his business. It's got nothing to do with me."

The rain started to come down, then, and there were a number of shrieks and laughs as people scattered to find shelter. I stayed where I was, watching as Edward's hair got wet, which made it even more unruly. He smiled at me, and I knew I was probably looking ragged now as well.

"I wish you'd come earlier," I said. "We had a good time."

He shook his head. "I'm really not supposed to be here." He said. "But I kept wondering what you were doing, and wishing I had come. So I did. I just can't stay for long."

"Well, that's easy enough," I said. "We were just leaving when you got here."

Edward frowned slightly. "I wish I'd driven. I could have offered you a ride home." He said.

I felt a wave of disappointment that I wouldn't get to spend much time with him, after he'd come all the way here. After a moment, though, I realized what he'd said was very strange.

"You didn't drive? How'd you get here?" I asked.

"I walked." He said simply. "It's really not that far."

I stared at him for a long moment. We were fifteen miles from Forks, and I couldn't imagine any reason he could have for walking here. Before I could think of a response, however, something happened that got everyone's attention.

A red Jeep tore toward us, screeching to a halt and sending mud flying from its wheels. The engine had barely turned off when Emmett Cullen surged out of the vehicle toward his brother. An instant later, Jasper Hale was standing next to him.

Emmett grabbed the front of Edward's damp shirt, shaking him violently. I stepped away from them, scared by Emmett's anger.

"What's wrong with you?" Emmett shouted over the rain. "What are you doing here?!"

"Let go of me!" Edward exclaimed, trying to shove his brother away from him. Everyone was staring in stunned silence at the Cullen boys.

"You traitor!" Emmett looked murderous. I'd never seen him look so angry. I wasn't sure I'd seen anyone look so angry.

"Get off!" Edward finally shoved Emmett with enough force to dislodge his brother's hands, and the two of them stood, staring heatedly at each other.

I realized I'd never heard Emmett or Jasper speak before, but the moment was too tense for me to appreciate the strange, musical quality to their voices. People around us were still silent, unsure how to react. No one could have anticipated a fight on our trip to the beach, much less involving the Cullens. They hadn't even been invited, really.

"Get in the car, Edward." Jasper said. Edward stared at Jasper, looking no happier with his foster brother than with Emmett.

"Edward, get in the car!" Emmett echoed, though his tone was far angrier. He tried to grab Edward's shirt again. Edward shoved his brother's hands away, breaking Emmett's grip.

"No!" Edward snarled, his face closed off.

Emmett seemed unable to control himself, and he shoved Edward so hard that he slipped to the ground. Edward was on his feet again within a second, his arm cocked as if he were about to punch Emmett. He hesitated, his fist shaking. His back and the left side of his face were smeared with thick, gritty mud. One of his arms was extended to keep Emmett away from him, though he looked so much smaller than his brother that I couldn't imagine Edward winning in a fight against him.

"Do what I say." Emmett said, his tone cold. "This isn't about you."

"I'm not getting in your car." Edward responded.

"What's wrong with you? You think these – " Emmett gestured wildly toward all of us, shaking with rage. "You think these _people_ understand you?! They'll never _know_, Edward! They have no idea!"

"There's nothing wrong with talking to other people!" Edward shouted back.

"There is if you're talking to them here." Jasper's voice rang out. He was the only one of them who sounded calm.

"Shut up, Jasper!" Edward said. "Both of you, just leave me alone!"

"We're doing this to help you!" Emmett said, shoving aside Edward's extended arm and prodding him sharply in the chest. "Don't be such a bastard!"

Something seemed to snap in Edward. "Don't call me that!" He snarled. The fist he'd been holding back crashed into the side of Emmett's face, knocking him to the ground. Emmett rolled to his side and sprang upward, his feet sliding in the soft mud as he threw himself toward Edward.

"You _are_ a bastard!" Emmett said. "She probably caught it from one of her johns!"

"Shut up!" Edward had dodged Emmett's first attempt to tackle him, much faster and more agile than his burly brother. He ducked and threw his whole body toward Emmett's middle, sending them both tumbling into the mud. "Don't talk about my mother!" He cried. His accent had slipped to something unfamiliar.

My heart was hammering. I could hear the heavy thunks of their fists slugging into each other, and I could hear the wet sound of their clothes and the muck as they fought. But it was swiftly over as Jasper took hold of Edward's shoulders and yanked him off of Emmett, who Edward had somehow pinned to the ground. Edward wrenched himself free of Jasper's hands.

"This is because of you!" Edward shouted at Jasper and Emmett. "We live this way because of you! Carlisle wants us to be normal, he wants us to fit in! But we _don't_, because of _you! _You're just cowards!"

"We don't fit in because we're not like them." Emmett said harshly. "We'll never be like them. _Look_ at them!"

I could see Edward's slender chest rising and falling heavily as he breathed, his wet clothing clinging to his form. Then he looked toward me, his face unsure. He was covered in mud, and in places I could see where Emmett's fists had hit him and smeared the dirt away. But there was no swelling, no blood. There was no sign at all that they'd been fighting, much less fighting with such viciousness.

"What, a _girl_?" Jasper strode in my direction, having seen Edward look at me. Before I knew it, Jasper had taken hold of my wrist and pulled me toward his brothers as if to make an example out of me.

"This is all because of a girl?" He asked, his tone angry for the first time. He shook me, my wrist screaming in pain under his grasp. "_A girl?!_"

"Let go!" I said, not sounding as brave as I'd have liked. "You're hurting me!"

"Don't touch her!" Edward's eyes were wide and deadly.

"Hey!" Mike shouted at the same time, moving forward. Several of the others stepped forward too, following Mike's lead.

Before they could reach us, Edward had grabbed Jasper's free arm and yanked him away from me, releasing my arm. I backed away from them as quickly as I could. Mike touched my shoulder and stepped in front of me, putting himself between me and the Cullens. I rubbed my aching wrist, feeling Jessica and Angela's concerned hands on my back. I was already bruising.

Emmett and Jasper stood next to each other, glaring at Edward. They both looked enraged.

"Fine." Jasper said. Emmett's pride seemed to have been hurt by his near-defeat, and he was silent, his fists balled at his side. "If you won't come with us, you can deal with the Indians yourself. I can hear them coming."

Emmett clenched his jaw and looked to Jasper, who had begun walking back to the Jeep. He followed, and they sped off with a roar of tires.

Edward stood in the rain, still panting. He looked so lost that I wanted to reach out and reassure him, but even if there hadn't been several bodies between us, I was still too afraid to move. He looked at me again. Then he turned, without saying anything, and walked off into the dark of the woods.

By the time Jacob and Sam came back to see what the shouting was about, Edward was already gone.


	7. Chapter 7: Nightmare

7. NIGHTMARE

I spent a silent dinner with my father, who seemed to know that there was something bothering me, but he didn't ask about it. Tyler and Angela had both tried to call me after everyone went home, but I didn't want to talk yet. After eating, I went to my bedroom and listened to music for a while. All I really wanted was to distract myself from the chaos of the afternoon, but things worked out better. In the end, I fell asleep.

I was in the green fairy-glow of the forest, at the edge of First Beach. I could hear the ocean. I felt a hand on mine and, looking to the left, I saw the dark eyes and chestnut skin of Jacob Black. He was walking, and I realized I was walking too. We were heading away from the shore, though, and into the dark tangle of the forest.

He looked frightened of whatever we were walking away from, but I was frightened by the shadowy trees, and I did not want to follow him into the bush.

"Run, Bella!" He urged.

Other voices whispered out to me, from unseen mouths in the forest. "Bella," they said. "Run, Bella." "Run." "You have to run."

"Why?" I asked, unable to stop my feet from moving into the darkness.

"It's him," the whispers said. "Him." "It's because of him."

"Run from him, Bella!" Jacob said, though I could no longer see him.

"Run away from him." The whispers agreed as I crashed around the trees, trying to find where Jacob had gone.

The voices stopped suddenly. Terrified, I tore around, trying to find someone to help me.

Edward stepped out of the darkness of the trees. The mud from his fight earlier was still on his face, but now it mixed with dark blood that dripped thickly from his mouth and chin, staining the front of his shirt. His two brothers were behind him, blood smeared on their hands and arms. Each of them had one hand on Edward's shoulder. They both had looks of calm superiority on their faces.

Edward looked different. He had that same wild, black-eyed look of panic that he'd had the first time we met. He was straining against their hands, trying to get to me. He grimaced with the effort of trying to free himself, and I saw that his teeth were pointed and sharp. Blood welled between them, turning his mouth grotesque.

"Bella!" He said, his teeth grinding.

I tried to step backward, but tripped and fell.

"Run." Edward ground out. Blood bubbled on his lips. He took a shuddering breath and snarled, "_RUN_!"

"We'll never be like you." Emmett and Jasper said together, and they released their hands. Edward surged toward me as if in flight.

As his teeth tore into my neck, I woke up.

I stared at my ceiling. For a moment, I didn't know where I was. As I tried to catch my breath, I remembered that I'd moved to Forks. The fear was still real in my mind, and my eyes darted around the room, trying to confirm that I was safe. Behind the fear, though, I felt sadness. I felt despair. I didn't know why.

Music was still playing in my headphones, and my ears were sore from the way they'd pressed against my head while I was asleep. The light was on and I was fully clothed. The clock read 5:24 AM.

Hands and arms still heavy from sleep, I fumbled out of my clothes and crawled back under the sheets, trying to drift off once more. It was no use; my subconscious had dredged up the very images I'd refused to face before. Jacob's story and the incident with Emmett and Jasper had rung true to me on a base level, confirming some belief that I couldn't quite place. There was something about Edward Cullen that was extraordinary – I'd seen that much at the accident – but it hadn't fully sunk in until hearing Jacob's story. Emmett and Jasper's aggressive behavior only increased my suspicions.

I tried to be quiet as I gave up on sleep. I put on a pair of shabby sweats and made my bed. I hardly ever did that, but it helped me clear my mind as I tried to decide how to deal with the far-fetched ideas I now held about Edward Cullen. When I ran out of things to do, I decided the best course of action was to do some research. Unfortunately, my father's idea of technology was a ten-year-old PC with dial-up internet connection. It was slow and riddled with irritating glitches, but at least it worked.

As I waited for it to boot up, I looked at my phone. Mike and Jessica had both tried to call me later on in the evening, meaning four separate people had wondered if I was upset about the beach. I couldn't just ignore that. I typed up a text message and sent it to all of them.

i didn't feel like talking last night. don't worry, i'm fine.

i just don't want to talk about what happened. thanks

though, i appreciate you guys calling. love, bella.

After it sent, the computer had finished starting up, so I began my research.

Jacob had told me that the 'cold ones', including Edward, were vampires. But vampires were such a staple in human culture and belief that I knew I'd be flooded with fiction and novelty sites if I searched for that. I sighed. How could I expect to find anything factual when most people believed monsters to be a fantasy?

I finally decided that if I were going to find anything useful, it would be from the original stories about vampires. They were the ones that purported to be truth, after all. I searched for 'vampire mythology'.

I found an encyclopedia-like website that claimed to have every vampire myth known. There was a vast list of the names given by different cultures, all with their own incarnation of the creature. Somewhere in all this there had to be something that matched what I'd seen.

I read carefully through the descriptions, looking for something familiar. Most seemed to be constructs made to excuse unfaithful husbands or explain the deaths of infants. Many stories were based around unhappy spirits of the improperly buried dead. There was hardly anything that resembled what I'd seen in movies, and most of the stories didn't even focus around the drinking of blood. And the Quileute story, the one that Jacob had told me, wasn't listed at all.

Only a handful of the myths matched even one factor from what I'd seen from the Cullens, and there was another problem on top of that. The website had backed up the idea that vampires couldn't come out in the daylight; that sunlight would kill or burn them. This obviously didn't apply to Edward Cullen. Though Forks was hardly a tropical resort, the sun did shine on it. I assumed that sunlight strong enough to grow such incredible plants would be enough to kill a vampire.

Frustrated with my lack of results and feeling stupid for entertaining the idea of vampires at all, I decided I had to get out of the house. I changed into jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, pulling on my boots and raincoat, and went downstairs. The police cruiser was gone from the drive, and I remembered suddenly that my father had planned to go fishing today.

I stepped out of the house without any clear idea of where I was going. There was nowhere I wanted to be that didn't involve a three-day drive. Still, the cool, fresh air on my face did a lot for my mood. It was overcast but not yet raining. I walked past my truck and headed toward the woods beyond our yard. Normally, my poor sense of direction would have prevented me from wandering into a forest by myself. But every summer growing up, my dad had taken me hiking through these woods. I was confident that I knew them.

There was a narrow, snaking trail through the trees. I listened to the mud sucking at my boots and the jays crying as I passed. I tried to recall the names of the trees around me, but was only able to identify the Sitka spruces and the hemlocks. My dad knew them all, but I had never had much aptitude for plants.

As my frustration began to dissolve, my pace slowed. I could hear drops of water patter against the leaves of the canopy, but I wasn't sure if it was raining or simply the drip of dew, or even water left from yesterday's shower. Feeling less tense, I took a few steps off the trail and sat down on a fallen tree to think. The forest was an ethereal haze of green so like what I saw in my dream that the images came rushing back to me. I closed my eyes and listened to the twittering of birds, to the beginning buzz of insects. The sound of water dripping was occasionally punctured by the sound of a branch falling or a tree rustling with the wind.

I tried to compile a list in my head of what I knew. I knew that Edward was different, that his whole family was special. He'd protected me from the van, and when he'd been in the brutal fight with his brother, they had both walked away with nothing damaged but their pride. Jacob had told me they were vampires.

But was that really possible? Jacob hadn't been trying to convince me, he'd been telling me a scary story that he didn't believe himself. The fact that the Cullens weren't allowed on the reservation didn't mean much – it could be because of any number of reasons – and the more I thought about it, the less likely it seemed that _all_ the members of the Quileute community would know why. If the elders didn't think the kids needed to know, they wouldn't have told them. The kids may have made up their own story about why, and rumor could have brought that story to Jacob.

As for the legends… well, Jacob also said that his people could turn into wolves, which was the basis for their hatred of the vampire. I couldn't bring myself to believe that Jacob's ancestors were werewolves, so why had I taken the vampire part so seriously?

I tried to talk myself out of the silly idea, but the fact remained: I'd believed the Cullens were vampires because of what I'd already seen, what I'd seen with my own two eyes. Superhuman strength and beauty, unusually pale skin, eyes that shifted color. Was it such a stretch to believe that Jacob's criteria could also apply? Did they also drink blood? Could they be immortal?

If they really were the same people Jacob's great-grandfather knew, they must be immortal. But there was no way to know if that was true, no one could _really_ confirm it. The current elders would only have been small children when the treaty was created. Children remember things differently; real events become colored by imagination. I clearly remembered once being attacked by a fire ant the length of my arm, but in retrospect it was obviously my mind exaggerating things. How could I know for certain that the childhood memories of the Quileute elders weren't equally vulnerable to fantasy?

But as I tried to convince myself that it was all impossible, other things began to register, small things I hadn't quite processed. They never seemed to eat, they moved with shocking grace regardless of build, they had incredibly sharp reflexes, and I couldn't forget the display of speed when the boys had fought. There was the way Edward sometimes spoke with an unusual cadence that would be more appropriate to a turn-of-the-century novel than a twenty-first-century classroom. There was his odd insistence that he could 'read people'. He'd skipped class the day we did blood-typing. He and his family had twice confirmed that they were forbidden from First Beach.

And what about what he'd said at lunch? _'What if I'm the bad guy?'_

Regardless of whether he was a vampire or not, whether he was a hero or a villain, Edward wasn't… human. He was something more. I tried the hypothetical out. If – _if_ – he was a vampire, what would I do? Only two options seemed practical.

The first was obvious: to take his advice, to be smart and avoid him. To cancel our plans, to ignore him. To pretend there was a wall between us when classes forced us to be together. To tell him to leave me alone – forever.

The other option was to risk it. To continue to speak to him, to try and spend time with him, to get to know who he really was. I supposed it wasn't really a _practical_ option in the hypothetical scenario, but something about it felt right to me. We hadn't known each other long, and only recently had he even considered the possibility of being friendly with me. But I couldn't deny that my reaction to the nightmare hadn't just been terror at being attacked by Edward. There had been that other feeling, too, that sadness. Sadness caused by the regret on his face, by the fear he openly showed at the idea of hurting me. Sadness caused by his clear feelings of betrayal toward his brothers.

In the face of my apparently instinctual attraction to Edward Cullen, it was difficult for me to even entertain the idea of abandoning him. That idea scared me more than anything, and I rose to go home. The winding trail seemed to last forever as I tried avoiding the thoughts of Edward. Finally my father's house came into my line of vision, safe and clear, outside of the dripping green maze. I'd just begun to cross my father's lawn when the heavens opened and rain came pouring down.

...

I woke to sunshine. It usually took me awhile to pull myself out of bed in the morning, but this time I was on my feet before I was even fully coherent. I pressed my hands against the cold glass of the window, looking up at the blue sky and the few fleecy white clouds that were drifting lazily in the sun. I opened the window and inhaled the dry, warm air. It was hardly windy at all, and what little breeze there was smelled of flowers and grass. It was the first truly sunny day that I'd seen since I'd moved to Forks, and I couldn't stop the cheerfulness from surging through me at the sight of it. I was so delighted with the change in weather that I was almost able to forget about Edward Cullen and the incident at the beach.

I was one of the first people to school, and I could tell that I wasn't the only person who was uplifted by the weather. Everyone was in t-shirts, and some people even had shorts on despite that it wasn't much more than sixty degrees.

"Bella my darling, Bella my love!" A familiar voice called out as I reached the grassy lawn of the school grounds. I turned to see Mike jogging toward me, wearing khaki shorts and sunglasses. He caught a strand of my hair that was fluttering in the breeze and gave it a playful tug. "I never noticed your hair had red in it."

"Only in the sun," I admitted, feeling embarrassed.

"Well, it suits you _marvelously_," he said, drawing the word out and tucking the strand of hair behind my ear.

"Don't ham it up too much," I warned him gently, swatting his hand away. "Jessica's feelings might get hurt."

"She'll never find out, secret love of mine." Mike continued, pulling his sunglasses off with a grin.

"Michael Newton." I said firmly.

He held his hands up innocently. "No need to pull out the full name, Isabella Swan! I surrender!"

As we met up with Jessica, Angela and Eric, I found my thoughts drifting back to Edward. It was hard to avoid because Mike and Eric were talking about the trip to the beach, so I made an effort to distract myself with Angela and Jessica's conversation. Though I had dreaded having to listen to people gossip about the incident at La Push, I was shocked to find that no one brought it up. At least, not with me. Most of the kids from the trip had been visibly shaken up by the violence they had witnessed, but now everyone seemed content to pretend it hadn't happened.

Angela and Jessica were planning a trip to Port Angeles to shop for dresses, which didn't interest me all that much. I wasn't going to the dance anyway, and I had never been much for shopping. In the end, though, I agreed to Jessica's invitation to go with her to help the two of them find the perfect dresses for their dates. It would be nice to get out of town with some girlfriends, and I was interested in seeing what Port Angeles had to offer.

When lunchtime rolled around, I found my nerves buzzing. With the new thoughts I had on the Cullens, I was eager to see them. But I also felt anxious at facing Edward after what had happened, and confronting him with what I thought. If I was wrong, how could I explain having thought he was a _vampire_? He would probably take it as an insult to his character, wouldn't he?

As was my routine, I looked immediately toward the Cullen family's table. My stomach dropped when I saw that it was empty. I glanced around the cafeteria, looking for them, but they were nowhere to be seen.

Although I'd been nervous about seeing Edward again, I was shocked at how disappointed I felt when he wasn't in school. It should have occurred to me that he might not be there, anyway. He had been humiliated by his brothers – if it had happened to me, I would have seriously considered running off to join the circus – and there were obviously some family problems that needed working out. It surprised me that they were all absent, of course, but I should have considered the possibility. Even accepting that they were probably gone because of the incident, I was disheartened by it.

When I got home, I tried to shake myself out of the mood. I grabbed _Sense and Sensibility_, which we were supposed to read in a few weeks for school, and headed into the yard to soak up some sunshine. I sat beneath the large shade tree in the yard and cracked the book open. It was only when I got to the third chapter that I remembered that the hero of the story was named 'Edward'. I dropped the book to my side and sighed, closing my eyes in the warm air.

_It was arrogant to think he'd come to school just for me_. I thought, but pushed it away.

I would not think about Edward.

I focused on the heat against my skin, the gentle breeze that caught in my hair and tickled me. I tried to feel every inch of my skin that the sun touched, mottled through the leaves against my cheekbones, my lips, my arms, and my neck. The way my shirt soaked up the warmth…

When I woke up from a disjointed dream about Tyler growing wings and flying away without his crutches, the sun was setting and clouds were beginning to draw in again. I blinked groggily and realized that the police cruiser was in the driveway already. I rubbed my eyes, my skin slightly tender as I touched it. Who knew you could get sunburned in Forks? At least my recurring dreams had stopped, and the nightmare from the day before chased off with the image of Tyler flying.

I walked into the house, surprised to smell hot food. My stomach rumbled as I gave my dad a sheepish look. "I guess I dropped the ball on dinner, huh?" I said.

"Don't worry about it, Bells. I'm the parent, it's not your duty to make sure I get fed. I managed to feed myself for seventeen years before you got here!" He smiled at me, still in his uniform. "You got some sun today, didn't you? I saw that you fell asleep in the yard so I ordered us some Chinese food. I wasn't sure what you wanted, though… I got you sesame beef, I hope that's okay?"

"That's great, Dad. Thanks." I said. I knew he was right – most children were fed by their parents, not the other way around – but I'd gotten used to taking some of the family responsibilities on my own shoulders. My mother was wonderful, but disorganized and forgetful. I'd learned early on that if I did what I could to help her out, life was better for us both.

Somewhere along the way I'd started to feel like it was my obligation to be the caretaker. It was nice to remember that Dad could take care of me, too, and more than that… that he _wanted_ to. It made it easier to ask him for permission to go with Angela and Jessica to Port Angeles, and made me feel less guilty that he'd be on his own for dinner tomorrow night. He seemed so happy that I was making more plans with local kids that I began to forget my disappointment at Edward Cullen's absence from school. I was sure I'd see him again eventually.


	8. Chapter 8: Port Angeles

8. PORT ANGELES

Port Angeles was a beautiful little tourist trap, much more polished and quaint than Forks. Jessica and Angela knew it well, so we didn't waste time on the boardwalk by the bay. Jess drove straight to a big clothing store in town, which was a few streets away from the friendly face the bay area presented to its visitors.

The dance was billed as semiformal, though we weren't sure what that meant. Both Jessica and Angela seemed surprised when I told them I'd never been to a dance in Phoenix.

"You never went with a boyfriend or anything?" Jess asked dubiously as we walked into the store.

"I've never had a boyfriend." I admitted. "I didn't go out much. It wasn't until I moved here that I really felt like I was part of… you know, the school. My old school was so big that I hardly knew anyone."

"Didn't you go on dates, at least?" Jess asked. Angela seemed more willing to take my word for it, but I started to wonder if something was wrong with me being so inexperienced. It wasn't that unusual, was it?

"No," I said. "There was one boy who asked me out a couple of times, though. His name was Roy. But he was one of my friends, I never really saw him as a boyfriend. I didn't want to lead him on. No one else ever asked me."

When Jessica lifted her eyebrows at me, I realized I sounded as if I were feeling sorry for myself. "People ask you out here, and you tell them no." She said.

I smiled slightly, helping them look through the juniors' section for appropriate dresses. "I don't want to lead them on, either." I said. "I just don't see the point in dating someone I'm not really interested in. It's not like I'd be racking up points, or like it would help me find someone I do like."

"I think you're right, Bella." Angela said. "You can't force true love, right?"

Jessica gave us an exasperated shake of her head. "Well, I don't think there's anything wrong with dating for fun, either. I totally like Mike, but I've gone on dates with boys before that I didn't like so much. It's just fun to spend time with other people, isn't it? Besides, you might start to like someone after you get to know them."

"Yeah, I guess." I said. "I think I just want to know someone _before_ I commit to a relationship."

"So that's what you're doing with Tyler?" Angela asked wryly.

I blushed slightly, surprised at Angela's comment. She was always a chatterer, but now she seemed more playful.

"That's why Lauren's such a – well, why she doesn't like you." Jessica giggled.

"Tyler and I are just friends. We started talking after he got hurt in the accident. He's smart and he's funny and he's perfectly able to have friends who are girls." I said. "Anyway, I don't think he'll be dancing any time soon. I talked to him on the phone a few days ago and he told me they scheduled him for another surgery on his knee. I guess there's some scarring on the tendon or something, I didn't really understand."

"I'm only teasing, I knew you two were just friends," Angela said. "I keep telling Lauren that, but she doesn't believe me. I guess she hasn't noticed that you like Edward Cullen."

Again I was surprised by Angela. She was much more observant than I'd given her credit for, and now that it was just the three of us together, she seemed more outspoken than she was around the group at school.

"Well, she sure comments on it a lot if she hasn't noticed." I finally said, neither confirming nor denying my interest in Edward. "If she likes Tyler, you'd think she would be trying to encourage me to go after Edward, not acting like I'm bringing a plague down on Forks just by talking to him."

"Old habits die hard." Angela said vaguely, distracted by a pale pink dress.

We moved to the dressing room, where I found a seat in a low chair just inside the door. They'd each found a few things to try on, and I was to wait and give my honest opinion on their clothing when they were ready. I wasn't sure how much help I'd be, but I did enjoy being included.

When they'd settled on their purchases, we headed out. The shopping hadn't taken as long as we'd expected, and Jess and Angela wanted to walk down to the bay.

"Is it normal for the Cullens to miss school a lot?" I asked, my thoughts turned back to Edward after the conversation in the store. Jessica and Angela shared an amused look at my change in topic.

"Well, I don't know about this time, after what happened the other day." Angela said. "But they are out of school a lot, I guess. When the weather's this nice they usually go backpacking and hiking and stuff. That's what I heard, anyway. I think their foster parents must pull them out of school for it, though sometimes Dr. Cullen stays behind because of work."

"I wish my parents would pull _me_ out of school when the weather's nice." Jessica said. "But my dad said that the Cullens are only allowed because they're foster kids. He said foster kids have problems, so the school doesn't know how to handle it when the Cullens use more absent days than they're allowed."

"Foster kids have problems?" I asked incredulously. That seemed like a pretty big generalization.

"Well, I'm sure not _all_ foster kids have problems!" Jessica said quickly. "I didn't mean it that way. But it's like, a lot of them come from bad homes. My dad just meant that, if it was anyone else's family, the school would say they're missing too much class. But the school doesn't do anything about it because of their special situation, and because they keep their grades up. Anyway, they're obviously weird. You saw how they acted at the beach."

I didn't know how to respond to her, feeling mildly insulted by the way she'd talked about the Cullens, as if being foster kids meant they were automatically on the outside. I knew she didn't mean anything by it, but it clarified what I'd already noticed about the people of Forks, and what my dad had pointed out to me when I first asked him about the Cullen family. The residents of Forks didn't like the Cullens because they considered them to be different, outsiders. I wondered if the Cullens had even had a part in creating the reputation that they were 'weird', or if it was a label stuck on them from the moment they'd moved here. If another family in town had a large number of foster children, would they be treated the same way? Or had there been incidents with the Cullen kids before the one at La Push?

"Hey, I think I'm going to go find a bookstore." I said to the others.

Angela shot an annoyed look at Jessica, who had a guilty expression on her face. They thought they'd driven me off.

"I'm not mad at you, guys." I said, smiling to show that I wasn't. "I've been meaning to find one around here for a while now, I just didn't think we'd have time today with the shopping. But I can get pretty caught up in that stuff – I don't want you two to get bored. I'll meet you at the restaurant, okay?"

"Alright. How's an hour from now sound?" Jessica asked.

"Great. See you in a little bit."

Jessica pointed me in the direction of a bookstore she knew, and I headed off. I had no trouble finding the bookstore, but it wasn't what I was looking for. As I walked in, I realized it was more of a new-age store, with crystals and dream catchers hanging in the windows and shelves full of books about spiritual healing. Though the woman behind the counter was quite sweet, she seemed to be a lifelong hippie and I had trouble following her conversation about accessing my chakras and practicing astral projection. I politely declined the books she offered me on the subjects and went back out into the street, making a mental note to ask Jessica about what she liked to read.

I turned the corner, seeing a strip of glass-fronted shops. I walked toward them, hoping to find another bookstore more suited to my tastes, but all the side-road held was a repair shop and several vacant spaces. I considered going back to find Jess and Angela since the hour was almost up, but I had really hoped to find some new reading material when I'd headed out alone. I went a bit further down the street to see if there were any shops beyond the vacant spots, but there was nothing.

I turned back to see two young men heading in my direction. They looked college age – no more than twenty – though the burlier, dark-haired one was trying to appear older by growing out a patchy beard. They were joking together, laughing loudly and shoving at one another. When the straw-haired boy shoved the bearded one, he dropped a bottle to the ground. He bent to retrieve it.

"You coulda broke it!" He said too loudly, scooping it up. "Look how much you spilled!"

The straw haired boy searched around the ground, apparently looking for something. After a moment the bearded one seemed to realize what his friend was looking for, and pulled the cap to the bottle from the pocket of his faded jeans, screwing it back on.

Seeing two obviously drunk men on an abandoned street made me uneasy. I'd been taught my entire life that I was vulnerable, that I could be overpowered by others. I'd been taught to do my best to avoid these situations. My desire to flee the scene was overwhelming, but I didn't want to be a coward. I took a deep breath, reminding myself that they didn't seem at all concerned with me. I continued walking back toward the bookstore Jessica had directed me to, trying to ignore them.

"Hey girlie, you lost?" The skinny, straw-haired boy asked. He was wearing a pair of designer jeans and had a silk shirt hanging open over a yellow t-shirt. His face was flushed pink under his floppy hair and the t-shirt had an unidentifiable stain on it, which I suspected might be vomit. He took a step toward me.

"Hello," I said reflexively. I forced myself to continue walking. "I know where I'm going, thanks."

My heart pounded as I approached them, willing myself to keep moving. I would get past them and be back where I was supposed to be. They were just drunk; it didn't mean they were going to hurt me.

"Hey, wait!" The bearded one said. He grabbed me by the arm.

"Don't!" I said, my voice rising in fear as I wrenched away from him. He looked much stronger than his friend, which made him more threatening to me. His eyes were bloodshot and one of the sleeves of his grey fisherman-style sweater was pushed up to the elbow.

"C'mon, man, don't grab a girl like that," the skinny one said, putting an unsteady hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Hey, hang out with us." The bearded boy said to me. "We're goin' to a party. S'not far."

"No," I said. "I have to get back to my friends."

"What, we're not friends?" The bearded boy smiled stupidly.

"No." I said firmly. I turned to walk away, my heart still pounding.

"That ain't friendly!" The straw-haired boy said. I realized they were walking behind me, following me. I thrust my hand into my pocket to grip the pepper spray I'd hidden there. It made me feel safer, I was grateful that my dad had insisted I take it with me.

"Because we're not friends. I don't know you. Leave me alone." I said loudly.

"We can be friends!" The bearded one said. "I'm Doug, and this… little… fella here, he's Stephen!"

"Leave me alone." I repeated. I started to walk faster. Drunk as they were, they'd probably lose interest soon.

"Why you runnin' away, girlie?" The straw-haired one asked. "We just wanna be friends!"

I could hear their speed increasing and I broke into a run. The burly one gave a panting laugh.

"I know what she's doin'!" He called loudly. "Chicks like you always playing hard-to-get!"

He caught up with me and grabbed me again, this time by the wrist. His clammy fingers clamped down directly onto the bruise left by Jasper Hale, and the dull shock of pain startled me. I swung around, reacting instinctively. One of my knees caught him in the groin, and when he doubled over, I yanked the pepper spray out and hit him full in the face with it. He screamed.

Headlights suddenly flew around the corner, a silver vehicle almost hitting the straw-haired boy, who was crossing the street to get to his friend. He stumbled backward onto the safety of the sidewalk, falling to his knee and shakily standing back up. I ran toward the car, ignoring the sting of the spray in my own eyes, hoping the driver could help me. It unexpectedly fishtailed around, skidding to a stop just a few feet from me. The passenger door swung open.

"Get in." A furious voice said.

Even though I'd incapacitated the young man who'd grabbed me, the fear hadn't vanished until I heard Edward's voice. When he spoke, I knew I was with someone familiar. I was safe.

"We were just playing!" The straw-haired boy wailed, trying to help his friend to his feet.

I slid into the seat of Edward's car, strapping on my seatbelt.

"She told you to leave her alone. You deserved worse!" Edward's voice was harsh with anger as he shouted from the window at them.

I slammed the door behind me, happy to leave the two young men behind. The tires squealed as the car spun to face north, accelerating too quickly. We took a sharp left, racing forward, blowing through several stop signs without a pause. But I felt completely safe, and for the moment I was unconcerned about where we were going. The adrenaline was still rushing through me and I felt more grateful than I could ever remember being. When I began to finally calm down, I studied Edward's face. His flawless features held a severe expression; he looked murderously angry.

"Are you okay?" I asked, surprised at how far away my voice sounded.

"Are _you _okay? I should be asking you that! No one ever has the right to grab you like that," he said, his voice shaking with anger. "Men don't have the right to grab a woman without permission. It's wrong."

I blinked. "I know, Edward." I said. "That's why I sprayed him."

"You should have sprayed him the first time he put his hands on you." He said sharply.

I didn't know why he was taking his anger out on me, but I found myself remembering Emmett's words from the beach – he had suggested that Edward's mother was a prostitute. I pushed the thoughts away. I needed to address what was happening now, not what happened before.

"They were drunk," I said.

"That's no excuse! You didn't hear them!"

"I'm not excusing them." I heard my own voice get sharper, which seemed to surprise Edward. He looked toward me questioningly. "I shouldn't have to explain myself to you, either! Using violence isn't my first instinct, Edward. I saw that they were drunk and figured they were acting badly because of that. I was ready to protect myself if I had to, but I didn't want to just assume they were going to hurt me."

"But you were scared." He said.

"Of course I was scared!" I responded. "I don't know if you've noticed, but these days, girls are practically _raised_ to be scared. I don't want to be someone who's so scared of people that I hit strangers with pepper spray just for talking to me."

I waited, but he didn't speak again. I sat in silence, watching his face while his eyes were trained straight ahead. The car came to a sudden stop, and I realized we weren't in town anymore. Dark trees crowded the roadside. He leaned his head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling of his car. His face was still.

"What's wrong?" My voice came out meek, and I wished I didn't sound so worried.

"Sometimes I have a problem with my temper, Bella." He said. "All I want is to hunt down those…" he didn't finish his sentence, looking away. "It doesn't matter the reason they did it. I still have to convince myself not to go back there."

"Oh." I paused. I didn't know what to say. I pulled my cellphone from my pocket, seeing that I had several missed calls from Jessica. I'd forgotten to turn the ringer back on after school. My phone had no reception where we were parked.

"I was supposed to meet Jessica and Angela half an hour ago." I said softly. "They'll be worried."

He started the engine without another word, seeming relieved to have a real distraction. He turned the car around smoothly and sped back toward town. We were under the streetlights in no time at all, still going far too fast, weaving with ease through the cars slowly cruising the boardwalk. He effortlessly parked the Volvo in a spot I would have though far too small for it. I looked out to see Jessica and Angela just leaving La Bella Italia, looking troubled.

"Wait, how did you know where we were going to eat?" I asked.

Rather than answering, he got out of the car. He walked around to my side and opened my door for me. I unclipped my seatbelt and got out. "Uh, thanks." I said. I didn't know people still did that sort of thing.

"Bella!" Jess said, looking relieved. I turned toward her and Angela, who was looking with interest at Edward. When Jess registered that I was with him, I saw her hesitate. "Where've you been?" She asked, though her eyes were fixed on my companion.

"I, uh, lost track of time." I said. It wasn't really a lie. "I ran into Edward."

"Would it be alright if I joined you?" Edward asked, his voice suddenly lowering back into the smooth, silken voice he'd used on me at school. I could see from their expressions that he had never unleashed this particular talent on them before.

"We already ate, actually," Angela said gently. Jessica was uncharacteristically quiet. "Sorry, Bella, we were really hungry and you weren't answering your phone. Want us to stay while you get something to eat?"

I could tell she was trying to get something across to me with her eyes, but I couldn't tell what. Jessica seemed too stunned by Edward to say anything at all.

"Actually, I haven't eaten yet, either." Edward said, smiling slightly at Angela. "I can stay with her. I've got my car, if she needs a ride home. If you want to, that is." He turned and looked at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, that sounds good." I said quickly. I felt embarrassed when I heard how hopeful I sounded, but Angela only gave me a quick smile.

"See you tomorrow then, Bella… Edward." She grabbed Jessica by the hand and pulled her toward the car, which I could see down the street. I heard them burst into excited giggles when they were far enough away to be free of Edward's magnetic presence.

"Let's go in," Edward said, then. I nodded, following him up to the restaurant. He held the door open for me, and I walked past him into the building. I felt electrically aware of where he was in relation to me as we waited to be seated, which didn't take long. The restaurant wasn't crowded.

Edward asked for a booth, which I was glad for. I wanted to talk to him privately, without worrying about wandering eyes or ears around us. When we were in our seats and the hostess had left to fetch our server, I turned on him.

"How do you do that?" I asked.

"Do what?" He seemed genuinely puzzled.

"What you did to Jessica! You _have_ to know the effect you have on people. You completely dazzled her."

He tilted his head to the side, his eyes curious. An amused smile played at the corners of his lips. "I _dazzle_ people?" He asked.

"Is there a better word for it?" I demanded, embarrassed.

"Do I dazzle _you_?" He ignored the question.

I gave him a stubborn look. "Not like _that_, you don't. She couldn't even speak."

Before he could answer – assuming he even would have – the server arrived. I hastily ordered the mushroom ravioli and a coke, wanting her to leave so we could get back to our conversation. Edward ordered a coke, but no food. He watched me curiously as I sipped at my drink. He idly swirled his straw, shifting the ice in the glass.

"Not going into shock, I hope." He said at last, breaking the silence.

"I don't think so." I said.

"You don't even seem shaken," he looked unsettled. "I'm starting to think that whole thing upset me more than you."

"No, it's just…" I shrugged. "I feel very safe with you."

His pale brow furrowed and he shook his head, frowning. "This is more complicated than I'd thought." He murmured. I supposed it was a bit odd that I felt safe with Edward, after what had happened. I couldn't delude myself into thinking the incident at the beach wasn't weighing heavily on his mind. I noticed that his eyes looked lighter than I'd ever seen them before, which gave him an otherworldly look.

"Usually you're in a better mood when your eyes are so light," I commented, deciding that if I wanted answers, I'd have to be direct. No more dancing around the subject, and if he was offended with my suspicions, so be it. It was clear he wasn't someone who would offer information, it all had to be drawn out of him.

He was staring at me, stunned. "What?"

"When your eyes are black, you can be very unpleasant." I said. "But usually when your eyes are so light, you're more like a normal person. I have a theory about that."

"More theories?" He asked vaguely.

The waitress returned with my food, and I realized that Edward and I had been leaning toward each other across the table. We both straightened up as she approached. She set the dish in front of me, and turned to Edward.

"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?" She asked.

"No, thank you." He said impatiently. She left, looking insulted. "You were saying?"

"I'll tell you if you answer some questions." I said.

"Conditions." He sighed.

"Everyone has to deal with them sometimes, and you're no exception, Edward Cullen."

He smiled at my stubbornness, and shrugged. "Alright. But if you want answers from me, I get to ask some questions too."

"Fine." I said. I didn't have anything to hide.

"Go on, then."

"Were you following me today?" I asked.

His face went hard. "Not as such." Edward said firmly. "I was in town anyway. I found you after that."

"When we were in the car, you told me I 'didn't hear them'. What did you mean by that?"

He resumed swirling his straw in his glass, avoiding my eyes. I realized I'd been holding my fork ever since my food had arrived but had yet to touch it. I speared a piece of ravioli and stuck it in my mouth. When I'd finished, he still hadn't answered.

"You meant their thoughts, didn't you? What you've said about being able to read people… you mean their minds."

"Are you being hypothetical, Bella?" Edward asked, suddenly. "Or are you really trying to accuse me of telepathy?"

He didn't look angry, and I suspected he was just trying to divert the conversation. I smiled ambiguously. "Okay, let's say it's hypothetical. Hypothetically, if… _someone_… could know what people are thinking, with a few exceptions – "

"Only one exception." He interjected. "Hypothetically."

"With one exception. How does it work? What are the limitations? How would that someone find another person at exactly the right time? How would he know if this exception was in trouble?"

He paused. "Well, if that someone had actually been paying attention, the timing might not have needed to be so exact." He shook his head, having trouble maintaining the charade that we were talking about someone other than him. "But hypothetically, if he was already in the vicinity, and – hypothetically – some of his other senses were sharper than normal? He might actually have heard the exception shout with his ears, instead of his mind. Then he might have been able to find where that exception was by listening to the minds of those around her."

I realized I was leaning toward him again. He seemed to be wavering with some internal dilemma, but his eyes locked with mine. I could tell that he was making a decision right then and there, the decision of whether or not to tell me the truth.

"You can trust me." I said seriously. I touched his hand, and the same shocking jolt ran through me at the feel of his skin as I'd felt when he brushed my hand in class. It felt like forever ago. He pulled his hands away.

"Are you attracted to danger?" He asked, his tone unreadable. "Twice now you've risked yourself when you didn't need to. The first time, with the van. You jumped in front of it, trying to help me. Then… I don't know why you were down on that street. It seems like you head toward danger."

"Do you count yourself in that?" I asked.

He gave me a humorless smile. "Obviously." I pushed my food around my plate with my fork, wondering how to ask what I needed to know. But Edward began to talk, and I listened. "It's harder than it should be, keeping track of you. Usually I can find someone very easily, once I've heard their mind before."

I had frozen, and he wet his lips anxiously. He gestured to my plate. "You should probably eat something." He said. I stuck another piece of ravioli with my fork and went through the motions of eating, but it was purely mechanical. Now that he was being upfront, I was unable to waste my attention on the food.

"I come up to Port Angeles sometimes when I want to get away from my family. Usually we travel together. This is close enough that they don't feel like they have to come after me, and lately… things have been a little difficult there. So when I heard Jessica and Angela, I was surprised. I couldn't help but press in a bit to see if you were there, too. I was curious." He shrugged, and I forced myself to swallow another mouthful.

"You don't know what it's like." He said after a pause. "To hear people's thoughts. Everyone's thoughts, all the time. Sometimes I think it'll drive me mad, if I'm not already. I try not to listen closely, because I feel that people's thoughts should be their own. Like when you're in a theater or stadium, or a restaurant like this, people's voices can fade into the background. That's what I try to make happen, but it's hard. Even in a crowded room, if someone says your name you'll usually hear it. I heard my name when you were talking to your friends, that's how I knew you were around. I distracted myself, though, and I didn't realize at first that you'd gone off on your own. I didn't know you were gone until I started to pick up on anxiety from your friends. You hadn't returned when you said you would."

I nodded, poking again at my food. My head was swarming with the information. I knew I should find it far too absurd to believe, but I couldn't bring myself to mistrust him. I could tell he was being truthful, no matter how crazy it sounded.

"That's when I started looking. I was listening for you as I drove, and when I found you, you were with those two…" he wrinkled his nose, biting off whatever word he'd wanted to use to describe the drunk men. "I heard you shout the first time. It took me longer than I wanted to get to you – there are limitations to cars, you know, to any machines. I considered trying to go after you on foot, but I knew that would just make it harder – you can't imagine how hard – to simply take you away and leave them… alive."

I sat, dazed, my thoughts incoherent. I could see the fork trembling in my hand, and realized I was shaking. Edward looked at me and then brought his hand up in front of his face, covering his eyes in shame. He seemed to have forgotten his stipulation that I would have to answer his questions, too.

"I'm ready to leave." I said, finally. Edward gave me an unhappy look, but called the waitress for the check.

...

I had calmed down by the time we got in the car, though I could tell Edward was feeling dejected. He seemed to have assumed that I wanted nothing to do with him, now that he'd admitted he could read minds. Admitted he had wanted to kill those two young men.

We got into the car in silence.

"It's okay, you know." I said as he started the engine. It was an hour drive back to Forks, and I wanted to be sure we used that time properly. I didn't want him to think he was a monster because of me.

Edward looked at me, his jaw tense and his eyes suspicious. "What do you mean?"

"You told me how difficult it was, to leave those boys alive." I said. "I want you to know that it's okay. It's okay that you felt that way, and I'm glad you told me."

"It's _okay_?" He breathed. "You think it's okay?" His tone was edging on angry now.

"Calm down, Edward." I said firmly. "You wanted to hurt those guys, but you didn't. What you felt, however hard it was for you to do… it's okay. Because you did the right thing. And that's what matters."

He looked at me in disbelief before turning his eyes back on the road. We drove in silence for a few minutes.

"So what about your theory?" He asked, his voice still laced with doubt.

"Oh." I said. "Well, it wasn't mine, entirely. It was my friend Jacob. Jacob Black? His father is one of the Quileute elders. Before you got there, one of the other girls teased me a bit about inviting you. This boy named Sam said you weren't allowed on the reservation. Later, when Jacob came by, we went for a walk and I asked him about it. He told me an old story about wolves."

I watched as his knuckles tightened convulsively on the steering wheel.

"Wolves and vampires." I added. "He thought it was a superstition, you know. A silly old scary story. But he didn't know what I'd already seen from you, didn't know that I wouldn't think it was all that silly."

"So you have a theory, just from this story?" He asked coldly.

"Not entirely. It did give me a very strange dream, though." I smiled slightly, hoping to relieve some of the tension between us. It didn't work. "I tried to do some research on the internet, too."

"And you found something there that convinced you." He said.

"No. Nothing really fit. But then…" I paused.

"What?"

"Then I decided it didn't matter."

"It didn't _matter_?" His tone made me look up. I had finally broken through whatever barrier he'd been trying to keep between us, the cold look he'd been using to mask his feelings. His face was incredulous, with a hint of desperation.

"No." I said calmly. "It doesn't matter to me what you are."

"You don't care if I'm a monster? If I'm not _human_?"

"No."

He was silent, staring straight ahead again. His face was bleak.

"It doesn't mean you're not a _person_. It doesn't matter to me what you are; it matters who you are. And I think you're good. A good person."

"It's insane, Bella." He said.

"So I'm wrong?" I asked.

"That's not what I mean!" He protested. His accent was slipping again, something I had come to realize happened when he was particularly upset. I still wasn't able to place it. "I meant 'it doesn't matter'!"

"Then I'm right?" I gasped. My head was spinning.

He gave a huff. "Does it _matter_?"

I took a deep breath. "Only as much as it matters to you," I finally said. "I want to know how you feel. I want to know what you think."

He seemed suddenly resigned. "What do you want to know?"

I was surprised at his change in demeanor, and it took me a moment to think of a specific question. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen." He said sarcastically.

I couldn't hold back a slight smile at his answer. "And how long have you been seventeen?"

I was relieved when he returned a smile to me. "It's been a while." He admitted at last.

"How can you come out in the daytime?"

He laughed. "Myth."

"Sleeping in coffins?"

"Myth."

"Stake through the heart?"

"Myth. It's very difficult to kill us." He turned to look at me with a strangely wistful expression. I watched him until he looked away.

"You've forgotten the most important question." He said softly.

"Which one is that?"

"Aren't you wondering what I eat?"

"Oh. That." I said. "Well, Jacob said something about that. He said that your family was different. That you didn't hunt people, just animals. That you weren't supposed to be dangerous."

"He said we weren't dangerous?" He asked incredulously.

"He said you weren't supposed to be. But the Quileutes didn't want you on their land, just in case."

Edward looked straight ahead. "They have a long memory." He said. I took it as a confirmation. "But they're right to keep their distance from us. We're still dangerous."

"I don't understand." I said.

"We work very hard at it, at being safe around people. But sometimes we make mistakes. For example, I should never have allowed myself to be alone with you." He explained.

"This is a mistake?" I asked. I heard the disappointment in my own voice, but Edward seemed unable to read me the way he read others. I supposed that he may have come to rely entirely on his gift to understand how people felt.

"A very dangerous mistake." He murmured. "I never want to hurt you. The best way to prevent it would be to stay away, but… that's hard, too. You saw my brothers. They actually love me and they still lost control. The dark part of our psyches is very powerful."

We were both silent, then. I was aware of the time slipping away so quickly, and was hideously afraid that I would never have another chance to speak with him like this again – openly, the walls gone between us – and I recoiled from the idea. I couldn't waste one minute I had.

"Tell me more." I asked, not caring what he said, just wanting to understand him.

He looked at me quickly, startled by the change in my voice. "What more do you want to know?"

"Why do you hunt animals instead of people?"

He gave a hollow laugh. "I don't _want_ to be a monster, Bella. I don't want to be like this."

"Some people do." There wouldn't be such love for vampire stories if they didn't.

"No." Edward said flatly. "No. People want immortality. They want supernatural abilities. But not like this, not if they knew what it meant."

"They do know what it means, don't they?" I asked.

"No, they don't!" Edward said, his voice more unhappy than angry. "They don't _know_! They _think_ they do. They don't know what it means to kill a person, to see them die. They don't understand it. It's just ideas for them, it's fantasy. They don't know what it really means."

"And you…" I didn't know how to ask it, how to ask him if he had seen those things. I guess I knew the answer already, deep down.

"I feed from animals." Edward said.

"Are animals enough?"

"Mostly." He said. "It's not quite the same as drinking human blood, it doesn't satisfy the thirst. But it keeps us strong enough to resist, most of the time. Sometimes it's more difficult than others."

"Is it very difficult for you now?"

"Yes."

I paused. "But you're not hungry now." I said. He looked at me in surprise.

"What makes you think that?" He asked.

"Your eyes. The first time we met they were black, and the way you acted… then you were gone from school, and when you came back they were gold. And you talked to me, without making me think you wanted to kill me. My theory is that when you're hungry, they're black. When you're not, they're gold."

He smiled, impressed. "I didn't realize you were so observant."

"See, you learn things when you talk to people." I said, smirking at him. He gave a real laugh, which made me feel good. "Another question. If the sun doesn't hurt you, why did my friends tell me that your family goes away every time it's sunny?"

"It doesn't hurt me, but we can't go in direct sunlight where people can see us."

"Why not?"

"I'll show you sometime." He promised.

We sat for a while in a silence that now felt nearly comfortable. "Edward…" I asked.

"Yes?"

"The other day, at the beach. What Emmett said – "

"I don't want to talk about that." Edward cut me off, his shoulders tensing. I bit my lip.

"Okay." I said. "He was wrong to talk to you that way, though. It was cruel."

Edward relaxed. "Things are different for Emmett." He said. "His life was different than mine, he doesn't feel the same way that I do about a lot of things."

We were slowing, passing the boundary into Forks. The drive hadn't taken nearly as long as it should have, and when I looked to the speedometer I realized why. We had been going more than eighty miles an hour. It seemed a little late to comment on it now, but if I noticed him driving so fast again, I would have to say something.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" I asked.

"Yes." He smiled. "I'll save you a seat at lunch."

The promise sent flutters through my stomach, and I smiled at him. We were in front of my dad's house. The lights were on, my truck in its place, everything utterly normal. It was like waking from a dream. He stopped the car, but I didn't move. My hand was on the door handle, but I tried to prolong the moment.

"Bella?" Edward asked, his tone suddenly serious.

"Yes?"

"Be careful. Going into the woods, around town… just, promise me you'll be careful."

I stared at him blankly. "What?"

"I'm not always the most dangerous thing out there." He said. "Let's leave it at that."

"I will. I'll be careful." I promised.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" He asked, looking hopeful.

"Tomorrow." I said.

He waited until I had opened the front door of my dad's house to rev his engine and drive away. I turned to watch his car disappear around the corner.


	9. Chapter 9: Interrogations

9. INTERROGATIONS

The next morning, I tried hard to convince myself that the night before had all been a dream. Logic wasn't on my side, nor was common sense. But I was sure I couldn't have dreamed it all up – it was too detailed, over too long a time – and of course, for it to have been a dream, I would've had to wake up at the end. Not gone to sleep.

It was foggy and dark outside my window, which I took as a good sign. He'd have to be in school today.

When I got downstairs and saw that my father had already left, I realized how late I was running. I choked down a granola bar and chased it with milk straight from the carton. When I left the house I saw just how foggy it was. I had the passing thought (for the thousandth time since I'd moved to Forks) that it was useless to dry my hair after my shower when the weather would just soak through it before I could get to school, anyway. I couldn't wait to get the heat going in my truck.

I was a few feet down my driveway before I realized there was another car in it. A silver car. My heart thudded, stuttered, and then picked up again in double time.

Suddenly he was there, lingering in front of the Volvo. "Do you want to ride with me today?" He asked. Although his voice was confident, his body language suggested to me that he was unsure. I wondered if he'd had as little experience with girls as I had with boys. It didn't seem possible.

"Yes, thank you." I said, trying to keep my voice from betraying my excitement. He smiled and walked around to the passenger side, opening the door of the car for me. I stepped into the warmth of the vehicle. The door was no sooner closed behind me than Edward was sitting in the driver's seat, buckling his seatbelt.

"Do you really need that?" I asked, curious about the precaution. After what happened with the van, it seemed obvious that he wasn't at risk of being injured by an automobile collision.

Edward smiled at me, a hint of laughter in his voice. "It's over a hundred dollars in fines if you're caught without one," he said.

"Doesn't your…" I pointed to my head, unsure how to refer to his mindreading ability. "Doesn't that keep you from getting caught by traffic cops?"

"Always." He said. "But that's a little hard to explain to other people, if they should see us breaking the law. Our family has a vested interest in how the community thinks of us."

We drove through the fog-shrouded streets, and I felt awkward. Last night all the walls had been down… almost. I didn't know if we were on the same level today, if I could be as candid with him. It left me tongue-tied, so I waited for him to speak.

"What, no quiz today?" He finally asked, smirking.

"Do my questions bother you?" I wondered.

"Not as much as your reactions do."

"Do I react badly?"

He shook his head vehemently. "No, no. I just never know what you're really thinking."

I smiled at him. "I thought you said people's thoughts were their own?"

"They are," he smiled crookedly back at me. "But I'm not used to it, am I?"

"I promise to tell you what I'm really thinking." I swore, lifting my hand solemnly.

"You'll edit," he said skeptically. "Everyone edits."

"I won't edit! Not enough to change my meaning." I said.

He didn't respond. His face was unreadable as we drove into the school parking lot. Something occurred to me belatedly.

"Where's the rest of your family?" I asked.

"They took Rosalie's car." He shrugged as he parked next to a glossy red convertible with the top up. He gave me another grin. "Ostentatious, isn't it?"

"Wow!" I breathed. "If she has that, why does she ride with you?"

"What, my car isn't magnificent enough?" Edward asked with a hint of laughter. "It's really is ostentatious. We try to blend in."

"Why do you have cars like that at all?" I wondered as we walked toward the school. "If you're looking for privacy?"

"It's just Rosalie and I that have them," he said. "I guess it's an indulgence. Carlisle wants us to be part of the community but… Emmett and Jasper are right. In a practical sense, we have to stay in the background if we want to live here for more than a few months. But when you don't have any real contact with anyone in the world outside your own family, I suppose you choose little ways like this to express yourself."

I understood just what he meant. I'd felt the same way about my truck, though I now had far more contact with people than I did in Phoenix. I could see why he took comfort in having his own special car, one that he felt represented who he was.

"Do you really think your brothers are right?" I asked. "Because you're different, you have to be in the background?"

"If people notice us too much, they might find out what we are."

"But you of all people should know that you're not really in the background. People notice you all the time."

"Thinking we're weird is different from knowing what we are," Edward said. "We can't really be unnoticed, that's against our nature. As long as people avoid us, though, we can stay in one place."

Under the shelter of the cafeteria roof, Jessica was waiting. When she saw me with Edward, she gave me a meaningful look.

"Good morning, Jessica." Edward said politely.

"Er… hi." Jessica said, her eyes wide. "I guess I'll see you in Trig?" She said to me. Her meaningful look had become almost cartoonish in its obviousness.

"Yeah, see you then."

She walked away, pausing twice to peek back over her shoulder at us. What on earth was I going to tell her?

"What are you going to tell her?" Edward asked, his tone suspicious.

"I thought you couldn't read my mind!" I hissed.

"I can't," he said, looking startled. A moment later, understanding brightened on his face. "I can read hers, though. She'll be waiting to ambush you in class."

I relaxed a little and gave him an apologetic look, sorry that I'd snapped at him.

"So what are you going to tell her?"

I blinked at him. "Well, _I_ don't know what she wants to know, so I don't have an answer."

He gave me a wicked smile. "Trying to get me to tell you?" He asked. "That's not fair."

"No, what's not fair is for you to tease me by asking me what my answer will be, and then refusing to tell me the question." Edward deliberated for a moment as we walked. We stopped outside the door to my first class.

"She wants to know if we're secretly dating. And she wants to know how you feel about me."

"What should I say?" I asked, trying to sound innocent.

He gave me an unexpectedly self-conscious look. "Say whatever you want to say," he said gruffly.

"_Are_ we secretly dating?" I pressed.

"I don't know how secret it was, since Jessica and Angela saw us into the restaurant. But, if you consider last night a date, then say yes. I would be… you know, happy with that." He said, giving a vague shrug. It surprised me again how even the slightest movements he made were so graceful.

"Then I'll tell her yes." I said boldly.

"As for her other question, well… I'll be curious to hear the answer to that myself." One side of his mouth pulled up into his uneven smile, one which I was appreciating more and more. He touched me gently on the shoulder and smiled at me as he turned to walk away. "See you at lunch."

I hurried into class, flushed and energized. I sat in my usual seat, taking a breath to gather my wits. Would Edward really be listening in when I was talking to Jessica?

The fog had almost dissolved by the end of the second hour, but the day was still dark with low, oppressive clouds. When I walked into Trig, Jessica was sitting in the back row, nearly bouncing off her seat looking for me. I reluctantly went to sit by her, trying to convince myself she wasn't going to grill me about Edward.

"Okay, you have to tell me _everything_!" She said before I was in the seat.

"There's nothing to tell," I hedged.

"Oh, of course there is!" Jessica said. "Come on, dish. What happened?"

"He bought be dinner and drove me home." I said. "Remember when you said you'd dated boys for fun? I'm sure you know the formula."

"Bella!" She said in mock surprise. "After your date with Edward Cullen you grew some sass! Something amazing must have happened!"

I gave her an unimpressed look, though I knew I wasn't being very convincing. I had ridden into school with Edward this morning, after all. "Really, Jess, it was just a date."

"You stood me up for dinner, Bella. You owe me!" Jessica said, giving me a stern look.

"Fine, fine." I said. "Some drunk jerks were giving me a hard time, and Edward saw. He wanted to make sure I was okay."

"Really?" Jessica seemed torn between sympathy and admiration over Edward.

"That was when I went to the bookstore – which, by the way, is not the kind of store I would have pegged you for – and I went looking to see if I could find another one. That's when the drunk guys started harassing me. I handled it before Edward saw what was going on, but he seemed concerned and gave me a ride to the restaurant. He drives like a maniac."

Jessica grinned. "I wonder if Mike would protect me like that," she said.

"Jess, I sprayed them with pepper spray," I admitted. "Edward didn't have to do any protecting. But I'm sure Mike would protect you if someone tried to hurt you, he's a good guy."

"You used pepper spray?" She was immediately sidetracked from talking about Edward, which I couldn't deny was a bit of a relief. "What happened?"

I described the incident to Jessica and a few people around us who had overheard us talking and wanted to know the story, too. Thankfully we didn't have much time to talk about it, since class began. At the end of class, Jessica immediately launched into the conversation again, focusing once more on Edward.

"So he picked you up for school today!" She exclaimed.

"Yes, that was a surprise too. But I couldn't exactly say no, with him standing there in my driveway."

"Why would you want to?" Jessica seemed to have forgotten that, until now, she hadn't cared much for Edward Cullen. "Are you going to go out again?"

"He offered to drive me to Seattle on Saturday." I said.

"W-o-w. Edward Cullen."

"I know."

"Wait, wait, _wait_!" Her hands flew up as if she were trying to stop traffic. "Did he kiss you?"

"No!" I said quickly. "No, no. Nothing like that." I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, trying to hide how awkward her question made me feel.

"Do you think Saturday…?" She raised her eyebrows.

"I don't know, Jess. I'm still getting to know him, I'm not sure if that's what he's looking for." I said.

"You totally do!" Jessica laughed. We were about to part ways, going to different classes. "He has the hots for you, it's obvious. He came to the beach, he took you to dinner, he drove you to school! Classic signs, young Bella. He's always been totally antisocial before."

"Right, right," I said to her skeptically. "See you later." I waved and walked toward my own class.

"You're not sitting with us today, are you?" Jessica called as I left, laughter in her voice. I just waved again and kept walking.

When lunch time came around, I began to feel nervous. He'd said we would eat together, but how was I to know he wouldn't disappear again? But outside my locker, Edward stood leaning against the wall. He was waiting for me. My friends took one look, began whispering to each other and left me to find my own way to the cafeteria.

"Hello." Edward said, looking amused at my friends' reactions.

"Hi."

I couldn't think of anything else to say, and he didn't speak – biding his time, I presumed – so it was a quiet walk to the cafeteria. I tried to stop worrying over whether he'd been listening in on my conversation with Jessica, but I couldn't help desperately going over what I had said and wondering if I was remembering it correctly, if I'd said something insulting accidentally, and all the other pitfalls I feared when it came to interacting with this boy.

I could see people staring at us as we went through the lunch line, which seemed to annoy Edward. When we'd gotten our food, we sat down at the table we'd occupied the last time. I noticed he had a tray full of food, as though for himself.

"What would you do if someone dared you to eat food?" I asked, turning an apple around in my hands.

"So curious," he said, shaking his head. He lifted a slice of pizza off his tray, deliberately bit off a mouthful, chewed quickly, and then swallowed. It seemed to be an unpleasant experience for him.

"If someone dared you to eat dirt, you could eat it. Right?"

"I wasn't actually daring _you_," I said. "I was just asking."

He pushed the rest of the pizza toward me. "Well, like if you were to eat dirt, a little bit will just be disgusting. Much more than a mouthful or two and it's going to come back up. Mostly with solid foods, though. We can drink liquids, much to Emmett's pleasure. He's a fan of whiskey."

"Vampires can get drunk?" I asked, shocked.

Edward chuckled darkly. "Not easily." He said. "You either have to drink a _lot_ of alcohol – I'm talking a whole barrel full – or else you'd have to drink the blood of someone who was drunk. Since we're not man-eaters, Emmett has to go the first route."

"So, if you'd… you know… with those guys…" I asked.

"I wouldn't have drunk from them." He said. "I just would've ended it. I don't find drunkenness to be an enjoyable sensation."

"Oh."

We sat in silence again, though his attention seemed to be occasionally caught in the direction of my friends at their table.

"What?" I asked. "Are they talking about us?"

Edward smiled. "Like I said, it's hard to ignore when someone says your name. Jessica's analyzing everything I do. She's going to break it down for you later." He said.

I took a bite of the pizza, watching his face as he tried to ignore Jessica's thoughts. He unexpectedly sat up a little straighter, fixing me with a look of surprise. "You told her about the pepper spray?" He said.

It was my turn to be surprised. "You weren't listening to our conversation?" I said. "I thought you were going to be spying on my answers about you."

His eyebrows pulled together ever-so-slightly. "I was only teasing." He said. He suddenly broke into a wide smile. "What, did you cater your answers to me, then? Should I be curious what you said?"

I gave a huff, but I was actually pleased that he'd respected my privacy. "Yes, you should be curious. But I'm not going to tell you." I said.

"I thought I was supposed to get some questions answered too," he said softly, inclining toward me across the table. His reddish hair was tousled over his forehead and his eyes were magnetic as I looked into the golden depths of them. I tried to remember how to exhale and broke his gaze.

"You're doing it again," I said accusingly.

"What?" He looked confused.

"That thing you do with your eyes. The _dazzling_ thing."

"Oh." He frowned.

"You never did explain how you do that." I said, lifting my eyebrows at him.

He frowned a little more deeply. "It's not intentional," he said after a moment. "It's just something that happens. I can't control it."

"It's one of those supernatural abilities you talked about, right?"

"When we… want something. Want to know something, in this case, that's when it happens. I guess to coerce humans into doing what we want. It gets weaker the hungrier we are, though." He shrugged. "It's a strange thing. When we're hungry we aren't as powerful, and it's more difficult to keep our true natures hidden. People are instinctively afraid of us. When we're stronger, better-fed, they're attracted to us."

"It must be nice to get your way so easily."

He gave me an incredulous look. "It's not _nice_, Bella. You never know if people are actually interested in you or if it's just this… enchantment. People think they like you, but they don't. And when the enchantment is gone, they recoil. There's nothing nice about it."

There was a long pause. "Do you think I only like you because of that?" I asked.

He gave me an unreadable look. "I don't know, do I? Even if I could read your mind, how could I ever really know?"

"Well, _I_ know." I said firmly. "It's got nothing to do with your magic eyeball thing."

He gave a small laugh at my phrasing, but shook his head. "And how do you know for certain, Bella?"

"Because even when I'm not with you, I still like you. You can't be putting me under a spell when I'm alone, so they must be my own feelings." I said. The look on his face made me wonder if I was being too upfront. "I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. I know I like you a lot more than you like me."

He brought one of his long, pale hands up to his face. His fingers lingered around his mouth, a reassuringly human movement, as if he were trying to decide what to say. "Do you truly believe you care more for me than I do for you?" He asked.

I blinked. "Yes, I guess I do." I admitted. I dropped my eyes to the table, staring at the pattern of the faux wood grain printed on the laminate. The silence dragged on. I stubbornly refused to break it this time, fighting against the temptation to look at his expression.

Finally he spoke, his voice soft as velvet. "You're wrong."

I looked up to see that his eyes were gentle.

"You can't know that." I disagreed. I wanted to believe him, but it was difficult. I'd never had such strong feelings for a boy before, much less someone I'd only known a short while.

"Bella, you make me feel…" he trailed off. "Normal." He finished. "The only time I ever get peace from the _noise_, it's only when I'm with you. I know that seems simple, but you can't imagine what a relief it is. For what it's worth, you're the only human I've ever met who was able to tell when the 'dazzling' was happening, who was able to break out of that moment. There's something different about you. And you talk to me like I'm a _person_. The things you said in the car, I don't hear that kind of thing from other people. Ever."

I stared back at him, struggling to organize my churning feelings. I knew that he meant what he'd said, and that was a terrible thought to me. How had he come to this point, this self-disgust?

"Your family doesn't tell you you're a good person?" I asked quietly.

"Ha!" His bark of laughter was hollow. "My family, we spend our every waking moment denying ourselves. We deny our true nature, resist instinct and basic physical needs, because of the very simple truth that we're _not_ good. We're designed to destroy, to kill. You seem to find that difficult to accept."

"Because I don't believe it. I don't believe you're not good."

"I work to be good, Bella." Edward said impatiently. "It takes more effort than you can imagine. My family understands that if we start taking that effort for granted, people will die."

"But people can't live that way, thinking they're evil." I argued. "And your intentions and goals _are_ good. Recognizing that doesn't mean you'd be taking your effort for granted."

He gave me an unreadable look. "Let's talk about something else." He said.

I ate a little more of the pizza, though my appetite had vanished. Something about talking to Edward had that effect on me; probably it was because every one of our encounters so far had been emotionally turbulent.

"So, I have a new question. Hopefully one that doesn't lead us down the path to silence again." Edward said, looking hopeful.

"Yeah?" I grasped for the change in topic. It was hard for me to ask things that didn't involve his condition.

"I know I was going to drive you to Seattle this Saturday, but I was wondering if you'd be open to doing something different."

I gave him a suspicious look. "That depends," I said.

"The weather's going to be nice, so I really have to stay out of the public eye." He said simply. "But if you still wanted to do something, we could go for a hike, maybe? Something private. Though I understand, if you don't want to be alone with me."

"As it happens, I don't mind being alone with you." I said, smiling. "I can go to Seattle another time. I don't think I'll be in the mood to go shopping again for a while, anyway."

"Then it's a date." He said, looking satisfied.

"Now I have a question." I said.

"You know, you've gotten to ask a lot more than I have!" He protested.

"Put it on my tab." I said. He gave a huff of amusement. "When the weather's nice and your family pulls you out of school, are you really camping?"

"No, we go hunting then." He said. "It's the most convenient time to do it, really. We have an excuse for our absence and it happens just often enough here that we can keep our bellies full."

"So this week, you were out hunting?"

"Yes," he said. "We went up to Goat Rocks. Most people don't hike there because of bears." He gave me a meaningful look. It took me a moment to understand what he was implying.

"What, _bears_?" I gasped. "Is there even a hunting season for bears?"

"If you read carefully, the laws only cover hunting with weapons," he said with an academic air. He watched my face with enjoyment as that slowly sank it.

"Bears?" I repeated with difficulty.

"I don't usually partake," he said. "But Emmett has a taste for grizzly. I think it's more about revenge, personally." His eyes were scrutinizing my reaction, so I tried not to seem too shocked.

"Revenge?"

"Well, early spring is Emmett's favorite bear season because they're just coming out of hibernation, and they're more irritable. Why would he want to pick a fight with an ill-tempered bear if it weren't personal?"

"Why would he hate bears on a personal level?" I asked, not quite grasping it.

"When he died," Edward began, and I felt a momentary lurch of my stomach. All of the Cullens had experienced death, including Edward. "He'd been hogtied and shot, twice, by a rival – "

"A rival?" I asked.

"It was the son of a man he'd robbed." Edward said. "He died on his twentieth birthday. He'd gotten really drunk and was… relieving himself in the woods. This young man shot him twice and hogtied him, then left him in the forest alone. No one could hear him shouting for help except the bear. It dug its foot into his belly and pulled his entrails out before his eyes. He was unconscious by the time Jasper killed the bear and saved him, but he remembers most of the attack."

If there'd been any hope for me finishing my lunch, it had just been shattered.

"That… the… he…" I stuttered.

Edward smiled slightly. "He had something of a wild youth, Emmett."

"Sorry, it's just… there's a lot about what you just said that's going to take some processing."

I looked toward the Cullen table, and realized that Emmett was looking straight at us. He didn't look pleased. I suddenly remembered the day Edward had driven me home, after blood typing in Biology.

"Didn't you tell me that you weren't going to share your siblings' stories, because they were private?"

Edward set his jaw. "I wasn't going to." He said. "But Emmett clearly demonstrated at the beach that he cares nothing for my privacy, so I no longer feel obligated to respect his."

As I watched, Emmett looked away with a vague sneer gracing his handsome face.

"Can you read their thoughts?" I asked suddenly. "Your family's, I mean?"

Edward smiled slightly. "Some of them." He said. "It's harder with others of my kind. The more human their thoughts, the easier to read. But it also depends on how old they are. The closer we are to our human lives, the more attached, the more likely I can read their thoughts. I can't read Esme's thoughts at all, but Alice I can read with perfect clarity."

"How old is Emmett?" I asked.

He lifted an eyebrow. "He was born in 1836," he said. "When he was fourteen he ran away from home, went out west to look for gold. In a covered wagon. Isn't that quaint?"

I gave him a blank look, before glancing back to the Cullen table. Emmett and the blonde girl, Rosalie, had both vanished in the mere moments it had taken Edward to tell me that. Jasper and Alice still sat there, and as I looked at the table in shock, Alice gave me a little wave. I swallowed and returned it, looking back to Edward.

"Is… is that old? For, you know, for… your kind?"

Edward shrugged. "Older than me. Younger than Jasper."

"What's Jasper's story? When is he from?" I asked eagerly.

Edward shook his head. "Sorry, Bella." He said. "Emmett's the one who violated my privacy. Jasper was just doing what he thought was right. If he wants you to know, he'll tell you himself."

I bit my lip, hoping I hadn't offended Edward. Or Jasper, for that matter, since they were apparently able to hear us talking from where they sat. "So…" I said after a pause. "Can you read Emmett's thoughts?"

Edward smirked. "Yes." He said. "Thoughts don't get more human than Emmett's. He's always been driven by his base desires, there is no subtlety to him. He couldn't keep hidden from me if he tried, though he doesn't seem to care. I rather wish he did, at times. You don't want to know what that boy thinks about."

My head was buzzing with questions; somehow, asking about Emmett's experience was easier than trying to ask Edward about his own. And regardless of the negative feelings I had about both Emmett and Jasper for how they had behaved at the beach, not only toward Edward but toward me, the idea of Emmett Cullen actually riding in a covered wagon to the Old West was still intriguing.

The bell rang before I could ask anything more, though. Edward and I both stood and headed toward class.


	10. Chapter 10: Truths

10. TRUTHS

Everyone watched as we walked together to our lab table. Edward no longer angled his chair to sit as far away from me as the desk would allow, and it didn't go without notice that we sat quite close together, our arms almost touching.

Mr. Banner backed into the room then, pulling a tall metal cart housing a heavy-looking, outdated television and a VCR. A movie day… the lift in the class atmosphere was practically tangible.

The reluctant VCR finally accepted the tape Mr. Banner was trying to shove into it. As it began to play, he walked to the wall and turned the lights off.

As the room went black, I found my thoughts taking a different turn. I was hyperaware that Edward was sitting less than an inch from me. There was unexpected electricity flowing through me, and I was amazed to discover just how conscious of another person I could be.

My mind was racing with a hundred ideas from a hundred movies about young love. It was too early to be thinking in those terms, I didn't even know if he was interested in romance or not, and I tried to shove them away. I failed. But somewhere, deep down, I knew that he was on the same page as me. There was some basic, instinctual reaction I had to him, a chemical attraction on top of the mental draw I felt for Edward. I couldn't convince myself that he didn't feel it, too.

I crossed my arms tighter to my chest, trying to resist the crazy impulse to reach over and touch him – just stroke his perfect face once in the darkness – but I failed once more. After balling my hands into fists, the opening credits began to roll and I lost the self-restraint I'd been exerting up until that moment. My arm darted across the desk and I closed my hand around Edward's fingers. There was an instant of uncertainty and despair before, after what felt like an eternity, Edward's hand reacted and clasped around mine.

My eyes, of their own accord, flicked to Edward's face. I smiled sheepishly as I met his eyes, searching my face for clarification. I could tell from his expression that he'd been unsure whether I was holding his hand because I wanted to, or if it was an act to back up our 'secretly dating' story. My own uncertainty had confirmed for him what his look had confirmed for me: neither of us was acting. And both of us were treading new ground, far from experts on how to proceed.

The hour seemed very long. I couldn't concentrate on the movie – later I'd even be unsure of what subject it was on – but every second of touching Edward's cool hand was clear in my memory. I tried unsuccessfully throughout to relax, but the electric current that seemed to be originating from somewhere in his body never slackened. Every once in a while our eyes would meet, and I would feel warmed again by the idea that we were both feeling the same way toward each other, and the delight of that strange secret.

It was almost a relief when Mr. Banner turned the lights back on at the end of class, and Edward and I both pulled our hands away from each other at the same moment. I knew what it must look like to everyone else – two people trying to hide their affection for each other from their peers – but even the knowledge of what other people must be thinking didn't quell the feelings I had. Butterflies in the stomach, and a new level of knowledge about what Edward was that made me feel somehow cleverer than the rest of the world.

I had to leave him for the next class, and I'd never felt the loss of someone so acutely. It struck me that I should feel bad that I didn't miss even my mother so seriously, but there was something about the newness and excitement surrounding Edward that made it seem somehow _more_.

I was preoccupied as I entered the gym, as though I needed something to make me even clumsier. I was handed a racket, and although it wasn't heavy, it felt unsafe in my hand. I could see a few other students eyeing me furtively as Coach Clapp ordered us to pair up into teams.

Mercifully, I shared this class with Mike.

"Want to be a team, brown eyes?"

I turned toward him. "You don't have to do this, you know. I understand if your sense of self-preservation warns you away."

"Don't you worry, dear Bella. My moves are enough to make up for us both." He winked at me, grinning. Sometimes it was so easy to like Mike.

Unfortunately, Mike's suave statement hadn't been completely accurate. He did not, in fact, have 'moves' enough to fully make up for my clumsiness. I somehow managed to hit myself in the head with my racket and clip Mike's shoulder on the same swing, at which he tripped forward and shouted, "Sabotage! Sabotage!" I spent the rest of the hour in the back corner of our court, racket held safely behind my back. Despite being handicapped by my lack of athleticism and high level of distraction, Mike was pretty good; he won three games out of four singlehandedly. He gave me an unearned high-five when the coach finally blew the whistle that signaled the end of class.

"So!" He said cheerfully as we walked off the court.

"So..?" I countered.

"You and Cullen, huh?" I detected a hint of rebelliousness to his tone, though he was trying to sound cavalier. I hadn't really thought he was interested in me, and he was clearly happy with Jessica, so it was strange to hear any reservations from him at all.

"Yeah, I guess so." I said. I remembered the butterflies in my stomach at touching Edward's hand, and found myself smiling in spite of everything.

"I don't like it." He said, his tone plain. My eyebrows drew together and I stopped walking.

"You don't have to." I said defiantly, as he looked at me in surprise.

"Remember that day you first started here, and he acted like you were the scum of the earth?" He reminded me. I frowned. "Remember when you were trying to talk to him in class and the hall, and he would just walk away from you? Because I saw it happen more than once, Bella. I don't even care about what happened at the beach, because God knows what I'd have done if I were him, but think about how he treated you before. A pretty face doesn't change that."

I watched his face, angry at his protectiveness. Weeks of joking and flirtation, and suddenly Mike became the concerned parent? I didn't like his attention to my interactions with Edward, but in actuality I didn't like what he said mostly because I knew it was true. I remembered those things as clearly as my friend had, and I'd been trying hard to forget them.

"Besides." Mike said, his voice turning to a reassuring lilt. He felt bad for speaking so harshly to me. I indulged it, because it was easier to forgive him than to stay angry and hurt. "Only I'm allowed to look at you the way he does."

"How's that?" I asked dully.

"Like you're something to eat." He waggled his pale eyebrows at me.

I found myself giggling – hard – and was just happy that he seemed to take my laughter as a reaction to his wit rather than The Big Cullen Secret that added irony to his words. When I got control of myself, I took a deep breath and set more serious eyes on him.

"Look, Mike. I know what you're saying. I remember those things, too. In fact, I've discussed them with him. I want to give him another chance. But I'm not stupid, and you don't have to worry about me."

"Okay, then. Just know that I'm here to help, Bella my darling. If you ever need it."

I went to the locker room and dressed quickly, feeling my butterflies turn to pinballs that hammered hard against the walls of my stomach. My discussion with Mike quickly became a distant memory as I was overcome by the feelings of anticipation about being free of school. Edward had driven me in today – would he be waiting for me after class? Should I meet him at his car? What if his family was there? They knew that I knew what they were – even if they hadn't known before today, my conversation with Edward about Emmett's past would have clued them in – would they be angry at me for knowing their secret? Was I supposed to pretend I didn't know?

By the time I left the locker room, I had nearly decided to walk straight home without even glancing at the parking lot. But my worries turned out to be unnecessary. Edward was waiting, leaning casually against the side of the building, his face breathtaking and untroubled.

I followed him to his car, pins and needles, and we pulled out of the parking lot without trouble. As the silence began to feel uncomfortable, I tried to think of something to say.

"So…" I began. "Can I watch you hunt sometime? It's got to be an interesting sight."

Edward's jaw tensed and he stared straight ahead on the road. It seemed as though he wasn't breathing. "No." He said shortly.

"Wh… why?" I asked, startled by his reaction.

"Have you ever seen a medical show? A police drama? Because you should know that, most of the time, the way that people bleed on those kinds of programs is severely downplayed. Made palatable, to add drama to a story without horrifying the audience too much. That's not how it really is. Man or animal, when you tear into a living creature with your teeth – especially on an artery, like how we hunt – the blood comes shooting out. It covers you. It covers everything. It's horrible." He took a deep breath. "You shouldn't see me like that. You shouldn't see _anyone_ like that. Not to mention the danger!"

"Danger?" I asked.

"When we hunt…" he spoke slowly, unwillingly. "We give ourselves over to our senses. We govern less with our minds. The sense of smell is especially powerful then, and once we smell blood… it's like a frenzy starts. It's nearly impossible to stop. Having you there would be – _God_ – Bella, it would be beyond terrible. I can't even entertain the _idea_ that I'd be able to resist."

"Like sharks." I said.

He gave a shake of his head. "No. It's like nothing you've ever seen. Sharks, they're part of nature. It's different."

"You're part of nature, too." I countered.

"No, I'm not. I can't be."

I stared. "But you have to be, Edward. What else could you be?"

He shrugged. "Something made by the devil."

I had no response for that. I had never been religious – my family just didn't seem to have many spiritual interests – and it had never occurred to me that Edward could think of himself in such terms.

"When was the first vampire made?" I asked suddenly.

Edward blinked. "What?"

"Who's the oldest vampire? Does anyone know where or when you started?"

Edward shook his head again, apparently not understanding where I was going. "Esme's over four thousand years old. Over four thousand and four hundred years." He said.

I sucked in a shocked breath.

"Her people built Stonehenge." He added, a half-amused smile playing on his lips.

"She – oh." I said. "Is she… the first one? The original vampire?"

He gave me a blank look. "No, of course not. She was turned just like the rest of us. By a woman named Aspasia who lived wild."

"And was Aspasia the first one?" I asked.

"I don't know." He said thoughtfully. "I don't think so. Esme's told me some of her peoples' stories. They had beliefs already about our kind, their name for us meant 'red-blood drinkers'. She said that even then they talked of the ancients, and that vampires started in the ancient times. She believes the first of us was someone who died and whose body was improperly dealt with."

"So even four thousand years ago, no one knew where vampires came from. Even then they had legends about you." I said.

"I guess." He conceded.

"Then you can't really say you're unnatural. Vampires might've been around just as long as humans have. You can't say they're made by the devil if you don't even know how they started."

Edward said nothing as we pulled into my driveway. He put the vehicle into park and I looked at him, not sure how to proceed. Would he kiss me? Was it too early to wonder that? Had our conversation been too tense to wonder that? I watched his long eyelashes flutter with the movement of his private thoughts, and found myself wishing I had the power he did. What was he thinking? Finally his eyes darted toward mine and held them, and flickers of the electricity I'd felt this afternoon began to charge the atmosphere.

I drew in a deep breath, breaking the stillness, and he closed his eyes.

"I think you'd better go inside now." His voice was rough and he turned his gaze to the clouds pulling in above us.

I stepped out of the car and walked to the house. I heard the whirr of his automatic window and turned back.

"Bella, tomorrow it's my turn." He called after me, his voice more even than it had been moments before.

"Your turn?" I asked, confused.

"My turn to ask the questions." He smiled, his teeth gleaming.

And then he was gone, the car speeding away and disappearing before I could collect my thoughts. I smiled as I walked to the house.

...

After the cruiser pulled away the next morning, I tried to resist the urge to look out the window. I went about brushing my teeth and gathering my things, telling myself that Edward probably wouldn't pick me up two days in a row – we'd only been on one date, after all – and telling myself not to be disappointed.

As I was putting on my jacket, I peeked out the window. The silver car was already there, waiting in Charlie's spot on the driveway. I hastily locked the door behind me and tried to keep from skipping with happiness as I headed to Edward's car. I paused shyly before I opened the door to the Volvo and stepped in. Edward was smiling, relaxed, and looking as beautiful as ever.

"Good morning." His voice was silky. "How are you today?" His eyes roamed over my face, as if his question was something more than simple courtesy.

"Good, thank you." I felt better now that I was with him, not that I'd say as much.

His gaze lingered on the circles under my eyes. "You look tired."

The incredulous laugh escaped before I had a chance to stop it. "Thanks." I followed, my voice heavy. "So do you." He was the one who apparently had a chronic case of bag-under-eyes.

He gave me an amused look. "That's different." He feigned a lofty air. "_My_ people aren't able to sleep."

"What, ever?"

"Never. Not once since the day I was changed."

I looked at him curiously. "And when was that?"

"Ah-ah-ah!" He scolded. "Today I get to ask the questions, remember?"

"But I'm an open book! There's nothing interesting about me."

"It's not my fault if I just happen to be more brooding and mysterious than you, Bella." He teased.

"It is so." I said. "You do that thing with your eyebrows, it's a total scam."

"My eyebrows?" He grinned.

"They're highly mysterious."

He didn't seem to know what to say to that, but his gorgeously crooked smile remained. "Well, too bad, a deal's a deal. And as far as how open you are goes, I told you before that I find you very difficult to read. You're all secrets to me."

"Well, fine then. Have at it." I finally said.

He was silent for a moment, apparently musing on what he wanted to know the most.

"What do you value most in another person?" He asked.

I was surprised at the question. Somehow I had expected him to be asking more about my experiences, or the trivial details of everyday life. I expected him to ask about what movies I like, music, books, that sort of thing. The stuff I talked about with Tyler.

"Honesty." I answered after a moment.

"Why?" He asked.

"Because!" I said, looking at him. It didn't seem to me to be something that needed explaining. Then again, I realized suddenly that his entire family survived based on lies. "Because you can't know a person unless they're honest. Anything other than truth is only given in order to make things easier for the person talking."

"Sometimes it's necessary to lie, Bella." Edward said.

"Yes, sometimes it is. In your situation, it obviously is." I agreed. "Your security depends on it. But when it comes down to two people talking to one another, it's not. And, I know I'm only seventeen, but so far that seems to be what life really consists of – your personal relationships with other people. You can be honest with me, and I expect you to. Whatever the rest of the world needs to know is a judgment call that you have to make, but don't lie to me, Edward."

"I can't tell you everything, though." Edward said, his pale face staring steadfastly forward. "About my family."

"I know that. What you said to me yesterday, about how you couldn't share Jasper's story with me because it was private? That wasn't lying, was it? It was the truth, it's his personal story and he should have control of whether or not I know it. And when things like that come up, I'm fine with you saying that to me."

"Okay." He said, blinking. My terms seemed acceptable to him. He moved on. "You used to spend summers in Forks, didn't you? Why did you stop doing that?"

"I never liked the cold and the wet. I didn't know the kids here well. The usual stuff, I guess. And some family things, too. I guess I always thought that bringing my dad south would help my parents get along again. Maybe even get back together. It's stupid, of course. Every kid thinks they can fix their parents' relationship, but it never works that way. Anyway, Dad always ended up taking me to California for our time together instead of staying in Phoenix."

"Your parents don't get along well?" Edward pressed.

"Oh, better than most divorcees, I guess. They don't argue or anything. They're just very different people, they didn't know each other as well as they should have when they got married. They were so young. They wanted different things from their lives." I answered.

Edward mulled that over as we pulled into the parking lot of the school. I hadn't realized we were so close already. He pulled into a parking spot and turned to look at me.

"What do you want from your life?" He asked.

"I don't know yet." I said honestly. "To survive high school. Go to college if I can get the money. And see where I go from there."

"If you need money…" He said.

"Edward, I'm stopping you there. We have not known each other anywhere near long enough for you to offer me money for college." I said firmly.

He smiled sheepishly, and we got out of the car.

"Well, what about you? What do you want from life?" I asked him.

He grinned, pulling a jacket over his collared shirt. "It's a little late for that," he said, arching a copper eyebrow at me.

"No it isn't!" I said, pulling my own jacket on. "Come on, you must have some dreams or goals for yourself. For the future."

He shook his head, giving me a dark, troubled look. "Bella, be serious. I can't have goals like you can."

"I don't understand."

"I'm always going to look like this. I'll be seventeen forever. It's not like I'll grow up, or get a respectable adult job. People will always treat me like a child. I can go through college, and I have done, but I'm always the one that looks like a seventeen-year-old. I can get internships at real jobs, I can get stupid high school jobs, but that's it. I can't even stay in the same job for more than a couple of years before people start noticing my age." He pushed his hand through the back of his hair, looking toward the ground rather than looking at me.

"Then what's your plan?" I asked.

"This." He gestured toward the school.

"What, you're going to go to high school forever?"

He looked at me flatly. "Bella, I've been doing this for over fifty years."

I stared. "By _choice_?" I said. "What could you possibly gain from being in high school for so long?"

He laughed, the empty humorless laugh that he sometimes gave when he had to talk about his own life. It seemed to be triggered by any conversation about choice. "Bella, it's _not about me_."

I suddenly remembered what Emmett had said to Edward at the beach. _This isn't about you_.

"It's your life. It is about you." I said. The idea seemed foreign to him, and I could see that he was getting upset, so I decided to let it go. "Never mind, then." I said. "I'm sorry if I upset you."

"No, it's just – don't be sorry." He said. "It's just my old baggage." He gave me a tentative smile.

"Because you were changed so young?" I asked. He smiled vaguely again, though other students were beginning to arrive in the parking lot and I could see he was concerned about whether or not they might overhear our unusual conversation. He stepped closer to me, keeping his voice low.

"Yeah." He said. "The others have more options than I do. If I'd just been a little older…"

"Why do they go through the school thing, if they don't have to?"

"So that we can all be together." He said. "To keep an eye on each other."

"Each other, or just you?" I wondered. It had become apparent that his family exerted a lot of control over Edward. He stepped closer again, and I followed his gaze. His brothers and sisters had arrived, this time in the red Jeep that had come after Edward at the beach.

"All of us." He said, turning back to me. "Really. Jasper especially struggles."

"I can't imagine coming back to high school for so long. You must be bored to death."

"Ha!" He laughed, and I felt myself flushing slightly at the unintentional pun. "Usually, yes. Lately it's been a bit less dull." He smiled at me, and we headed toward class.

It continued like that for the rest of the day. Though his questions were more subdued during school hours, he walked me to every class (even the ones we didn't share) and we sat together at lunch again. We were careful not to speak about anything sensitive in the presence of others, but by the end of the day I felt we both knew each other better. Of course, it _was_ his day for questions, so he mostly grilled me about my family. What it was like to live with the chief of police, what memories I had of Forks from before I moved, what my new favorite place in town was, what kind of things I did with my parents when we were on vacation, what I missed most about Phoenix.

"What were your friends in Phoenix like?" He asked in the minutes before Biology began. My face reddened, and he suddenly seemed concerned and curious all at once. "Sorry, I didn't mean…"

"No, it's okay." I said. "I didn't have very good friends there. A few, but we didn't have much in common. We just didn't have anyone else to hang out with. When I told them I was moving here by choice, they acted like I was abandoning them. None of them would talk to me after that. I haven't talked to any of them since I left. I'd always thought we were as much friends as anyone else was, but it's clear to me now that they weren't my friends at all."

Mr. Banner entered the room, then, dragging the audiovisual cart again. As the lights turned off, Edward reached out and took my hand the way I had done the day before. "Well, then, they're crazy." He said softly.

The rest of the day passed easily, more easily than any day so far. Even Gym was no problem. Mike seemed more than content to let his opinion about Edward go, even though he'd seen us hold hands again. He teased me about failing to hit a single birdie and claimed I was missing on purpose just for a good view of his athletic prowess. I let him know what I thought about that. I changed quickly after class and said goodbye to my friends, giving them an answer that would soon become a natural response when they asked about Edward: "I'll tell you about it later!"

The drive home was more relaxed than the drive in. I was starting to feel more comfortable with Edward, and less unsure of whether we were on the same page. The 'truth game' was starting to become a thin excuse for asking questions, and it became more of a normal conversation. It was reciprocal.

"Did you ever wish you had brothers or sisters?" He asked, parked in my driveway.

"All the time." I admitted. "I had such a hard time making friends. I was always worried about my mother, she needed so much help being the adult, so I never connected to kids my own age. When I started to get a little older I really wanted to be social, but I didn't know how. I always thought it would be great to have a brother or sister."

He smiled vaguely. "I know what you mean." He said.

"But you have siblings!" I protested.

"Well, _now_ I do," He gave a slight laugh. "Come on, Bella, I was changed when I was seventeen. I didn't know any of my current family before that."

"Of course, I should have known." I said. "It's hard to process all the unusual things about your, you know, situation. What was your childhood like, then?"

He shrugged. "I don't know." He said. "Unlucky?"

"How so?"

"You know what Emmett said?" He asked. His shoulders were suddenly tense, and I felt a knot form in my stomach.

"Which part?"

"About… my mother."

"I remember." I said. Emmett had basically called Edward's mother a prostitute. I didn't know what to say, other than that I remembered.

"She worked in this club in Chicago. It was kind of famous, actually. The Everleigh Club. I grew up there, in Chicago. I don't really know how she got involved in that kind of work. I never knew who my father was, she got pregnant after she started working there, so. It could have been anyone. I used to ask her all the time when I was really young, but she refused to answer. When I was ten years old, the club closed. She had wanted to find another profession, but she was unable to. She moved from brothel to brothel." He turned his eyes away in shame. "Right before she died she told me she thought my father was this man, Anthony. I guess he was a regular at Everleigh. She wouldn't tell me his last name. She did say he was an important person in Europe, but… at the time, it wasn't so easy to research people on such a small amount of information. And I was changed so shortly after I found out, I had other things occupying my attention. Now it just doesn't seem to matter anymore."

"Of course." I said. I didn't want to discourage him from his story, but I also didn't want him to think that I was silent because I was judging him somehow. He gave me an insecure glance and I nodded for him to continue.

"She stopped seeing clients while she was pregnant, but after I was born she went back to work. It was an upscale club so my mother made good money. She was able to take care of me and send me to school. But, I'm sure you remember how kids are when you're younger. I got a hard time about it. Everyone seemed to know what she did, I don't know how. Their parents told them, maybe. I guess it was selfish that I wanted to have a brother or sister, because I knew what it was like growing up that way, the way people treated you. Adults pity you and judge your family, and other kids treat you like a freak. But it would have been nice to have somebody around my age to be with."

"I don't think that's selfish at all." I said.

"Why not?" He asked, giving me a skeptical look and leaning his arms against the steering wheel. "I think it is. It's selfish to want someone else to suffer so that you will feel better."

"But that's not what you wished." I said. He looked at me blankly. "It wasn't about making someone else suffer. You're not wishing for that. You just wanted companionship. And anyway, if there had been a brother or sister, their life wouldn't have been like yours."

"How do you mean?"

"They would have had you, Edward. You'd be there for them as much as they would be for you."

He smiled. "I never thought of it that way."

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself." I said.

"I guess I'll have to work on that." He said. He gave me another crooked smile, nearly taking my breath away.

"How did you die?" I asked suddenly. I hadn't meant to ask, but it slipped out before I managed to stop myself. Edward's open expression closed off, and I regretted having asked. "Sorry, never mind. It's none of my business. Forget I said anything."

"It's not that interesting, really." He said. "There was a terrible flu outbreak. My mother and I both caught it, and it killed us both."

"The flu?" I asked.

"Spanish flu. It was one of the deadliest diseases in human history, supposedly. Some estimates say it killed 130 million people."

"Really?" My shock was evident.

"I've read a lot on it, for obvious reasons." He said. "It was a different strain of flu than you're thinking of. It killed by turning the immune system against the body. The young and healthy were most at risk."

"That sounds horrible."

"It was pretty bad." He said. "Carlisle was researching the disease at the time. My mother and I were admitted into the hospital where he was working. That's how I met him."

"What about your mother?" I asked.

He set his jaw. "He didn't turn her, if that's what you mean." He said. His tone was cold, and I knew immediately that I could not push the issue. There was more to it, but he wasn't ready to talk about it.

The sun was beginning to fade away, and Edward looked out the window at the mellowing sky. "It's twilight," he murmured. His voice was now thoughtful, distracted. I watched him closely as he gazed out the windshield, his mind far away. I was still staring when his eyes suddenly shifted back to mine.

"It's the safest time of day for us." He said. "The easiest time. It's exciting for some of our kind, but for me… I don't know. It's just another day gone. Darkness is so predictable." A sad smile crossed his face.

"Depends on where you're looking." I said. "You can't see the stars in the daylight. No meteor showers, no phases of the moon. No northern lights."

He gave me a slightly amused look. "You see stars right now?" He asked.

I looked at the cloud cover that blocked the sky from view. "Okay, okay. Night in Forks is predictable. Just like everything else in Forks."

He laughed abruptly, leaning back against his seat, and the mood lightened. "You've got me there." He said. "But complaining about your boring hometown is such a teen movie cliché!"

"It really is." I agreed. "But getting all philosophical about nighttime is such a vampire movie cliché, you have to admit. Anyway, I'll take a boring hometown with people I care about over an exciting city full of strangers. Forks turned out to be a nice surprise for me."

He smiled. "You're a nice surprise for Forks."

There was a heavy moment as we looked at each other. I felt warm and strangely alert, my stomach doing excited turns. I had little experience with boys … was he going to kiss me? His eyes flickered over my face and his smile faded. He lifted his hand and touched mine lightly, with the tips of his fingers. I felt myself leaning toward him.

Then he recoiled, slumping back into his seat and pulling his hand away from mine. I watched him for a moment in confusion before the headlights of my dad's police cruiser washed over the driveway. I laughed, embarrassed at the surge of insecurity I'd felt when he had pulled away from me, and he gave me an uneasy smile. I opened the door and unbuckled my belt.

"Come meet my dad." I said. He touched his lips, looking through the driver's window toward Charlie, who was getting out of his car and looking curiously toward me and the unfamiliar vehicle in front of his house. He gave me a knowing grin when he saw that it was Edward Cullen, as if he had known all along. "Don't worry, Edward, he likes your family."

Edward stood and emerged from the car, looking slightly nervous. If he'd been able, I felt certain he would be blushing. Luckily for his pride, it seemed impossible for vampires to blush the way people did, and he managed to look confident when he walked over to my father.

"Chief Swan, it's nice to meet you. I'm Edward Cullen." He said, holding his hand out. My father shook it, smiling.

"It's nice to meet you, Edward. I know your father, he's a good man."

"Thank you, I think so too." Edward said. He stood awkwardly for a moment, so I walked over and put my hand on his shoulder.

"I know you were worried about me going to Seattle alone, Dad, and after going to Port Angeles with the girls I'm a little burnt out on shopping. Edward was telling me earlier that he's not going to the dance either, so I asked him if he wanted to do something else that day. He has to ask Dr. Cullen first, though." I looked at Edward, and saw that he was following my story, nodding.

"I'm sure he'll say yes," Edward said. "It's just that my brothers wanted to go hiking that day. But I'm not as into hiking, anyway. I always liked fishing more."

I shouldn't have been surprised that Edward knew how to win people over. After all, he could read their minds. And I wasn't so certain that he was even saying it just for my dad's sake, he was so convincing. Regardless of what might have been going on in Edward's head, my dad took the line wholeheartedly.

Before I knew it they were in a full-fledged conversation about fishing. The type of rods they liked, the lures, what kind of bait they preferred, and comparing their best catches. If I hadn't been so impressed that Edward had won my dad over so easily, I would have been bored to tears.

"Would you like to stay for dinner, Edward?" My dad said after a moment. I felt my stomach twist. Edward didn't eat, that would be hard to explain. "My fishing buddy Billy is coming over tonight, we're going to get a couple pizzas and watch the game. His son's coming too, he's around your age."

"Billy and Jacob Black?" I asked. That could only make the idea worse. Edward shook his head slightly.

"I'm sorry, I can't." Edward said, recognizing the names. "Carlisle and Esme will be waiting for me. Thank you so much for the invitation, though. Maybe another time."

"Oh, I understand." My dad said, grinning at me. "Maybe we'll all go fishing sometime. If you went, we might even convince Bella to come along."

At that moment, a dark car pulled up the street, parking in front of our house. Edward looked toward me, then back toward the car.

"That'll be Billy and Jake," Dad said, waving obliviously toward them. Jacob had told me how angry my dad was when he found out people on the reservation wouldn't be treated by Dr. Cullen, why didn't he realize that Billy would not want to be around Edward? Was he that naïve?

"I'd better go, Bella." Edward said, touching my shoulder and distracting me from Jacob, who had just gotten out of the car. "I'll see you later, alright?"

"Okay." I said, watching him walk to his car. My dad seemed confused. Jacob was still getting Billy's wheelchair from the car for his dad, so he turned to me.

"He sure ran out of here. He ought to have said hello to our guests." He said.

"Dad, you know how Billy is about the Cullens." I said quietly.

"But it's stupid." My dad said, stubbornly. "Besides, I think that's more about the doctor."

"I don't know the whole story, but none of the Cullens are allowed down at La Push. I mean, Edward tried to come along when we all went to the beach, but his brothers came after him and Emmett started a fight with him in front of everyone. Even if there wasn't bad blood there, he's got to still be embarrassed about that."

"Emmett's the huge one, isn't he?" My dad asked. "No wonder he's embarrassed, even I'd think twice before fighting that kid."

"That's not the point." I said, frustrated. Luckily, Billy and Jacob were coming up the driveway and my father had at least enough tact not to continue the conversation in front of them.

"Hey, Bella." Jacob said.

"Hey, I was wondering when I'd see you again." I said, smiling. Jacob shifted his weight awkwardly, and I knew he was reacting to having seen Edward.

Next to him was his father, who I immediately recognized in spite of having not remembered his name when my dad first mentioned him, when I arrived. He was a much older, heavyset man with a memorable face – a face that overflowed, the cheeks resting against the shoulders, with creases running through the russet skin like an old leather jacket. And the surprisingly familiar eyes, black eyes that seemed somehow to be both too young and too ancient for the broad face they were set in. He was staring at me, scrutinizing my face, so I smiled tentatively at him. His eyes were wide, as if in shock, and his nostrils were flared. My smile faded. I knew instinctively that this would complicate things.

Had Billy recognized Edward so easily? Could he really believe the legends that his son had shared with me, had considered nothing more than a scary story? The answer was clear in Billy's eyes. Yes. He could.


	11. Chapter 11: Families

11. FAMILIES

"I'm going to pretend I didn't see you behind the wheel, Jake," Dad said to Jacob as the four of us went into the house.

"We get permits early on the rez," Jacob said sweetly, and I found myself smiling at him. He seemed to appreciate my attention, even though he'd just seen me with another boy.

"Sure you do," my father laughed.

"I have to get around somehow, and my girls are both grown up now." I recognized Billy's voice easily, despite the years. The sound of it made me feel suddenly younger, like I was six years old again.

"I'm glad I ran into you earlier, it was a nice surprise." Dad said to Billy in the kitchen as Jacob and I stood nearby, slightly awkward at seeing each other again.

"It's been too long," Billy said. His dark eyes flashed toward me again, unreadable. "I don't think I've been up here since your daughter returned, in fact."

"Ah, yeah, it's been really nice having Bells around." My dad put a warm hand on my back and pulled out two beers, handing one to Billy.

"Interesting note, our television broke yesterday." Jacob said to me, grinning. "It's a truly amazing coincidence that my dad decided it was time to mend things with yours. Just in time for the game."

Billy gave his son a disapproving look. "The universe rewards us when we do good." He said with put-on mysteriousness.

Jacob laughed. "Sorry about my dad, he's… embarrassing." He said.

"Ah, kids just don't understand the way of the world." Charlie countered. "I know exactly what you meant, Billy." He patted the older man on the back and went to call the pizza place.

"And, of course, Jacob was anxious to see Bella again," Billy said. Charlie grinned at me from the phone, though he said nothing as he waited to make his order. Jacob ducked his head and shot a dirty look at his dad. I felt embarrassed on his behalf, though I had gotten the impression he might be interested in me when we'd talked at the beach.

"We're friends," I said kindly. "I've been meaning to come down and visit, but school has been more demanding than usual."

My dad hung up the phone and the two adults went into the living room, flipping the TV on.

"Want to play a game or something?" I asked Jacob.

"Sure," he said. "What did you have in mind?"

I shrugged, opening the hall closet where the board games sat on the shelf above the jackets. I pulled a few down, but we quickly discovered that most of the games were lacking. We spread them on the kitchen table to see what was playable.

"I've got Trivial Pursuit without any of the wedges," Jacob said.

"We used to keep those in a little plastic bag," I said. "The bag must have gotten lost…" I looked in the box in front of me. "Do you know how to play Yahtzee? I think we have all the dice, but the scorecard and the rules are gone."

"No idea, Bella." Jacob admitted, grinning. "What about Clue?"

I checked. "Someone spilled a drink on the cards, you can't read any of them."

"Hey, at least they put them back! That's a responsible game keeper." Jacob said.

"This is probably a lost cause," I said, stacking up the games we'd rejected.

"Wait!" Jacob said triumphantly. He held up a box as if it were a valuable treasure. "Connect Four."

"Ooh," I grinned. "I warn you, though, I am awesome at Connect Four."

"Careful, Bella, you can't say something like that unless you're prepared to awe me." Jacob said, as we set up the game.

"That's what 'awesome' means, Jacob. Some… awe…" I failed to sound impressive, but Jacob seemed to think I was funny. I took the incomplete games and put them back into the closet.

"You're putting them back?" Jacob laughed. "But you can't play them!"

I paused, realizing he was right. "They're… valuable memories?" I tried.

"Come on, get over here and impress me." Jacob said, gesturing toward the board.

As it happened, Jacob was every bit as talented at Connect Four as I was, and we played for a long time. We chatted as we did.

"Did you finish your car?" I asked.

"Not yet," he said. "I still need parts. We borrowed the one I drove tonight."

"Sorry, I haven't seen any… what was it you were looking for?"

"Master cylinder." He grinned. "Don't worry, Bella. I – a mere fifteen year old – will teach you all you need to know about cars. If you're driving, you should know your car's engine. Is there anything wrong with the truck, by the way?"

"No." I said, surprised.

"I just wondered because you weren't driving it." He said.

I dropped a piece in place. "I got a ride with a friend."

"Nice ride." Jacob admitted. "I didn't recognize the driver. My dad seemed to, though."

"Yeah. That's Edward Cullen. We've been hanging out a bit."

To my surprise, he laughed. "That explains why my dad acted so strange." He said. He gave me an apologetic look. "He's a little superstitious."

"It's okay." I said. "I remember what you told me. You don't think he'll say anything to my dad?"

Jacob stared at me for a moment, and I couldn't tell what he was thinking. "I doubt it." He finally answered. "I think Charlie chewed him out pretty good last time. They haven't talked very much since then, tonight is kind of a reunion. I don't think he'll bring it up again."

"Good, I don't want it to cause problems between our families." I said.

"You didn't say anything to Cullen, did you?" Jacob asked. "About what I told you?"

I blinked. It hadn't occurred to me that he would be worried about what Edward thought. "No, of course not." I said. "I know you weren't supposed to talk to me about it, I don't want you to get into trouble with your dad." Jacob looked relieved.

"Are you and your friends coming back to the beach soon?" Jacob asked, after a moment.

"I'm not sure. The next couple of weekends are going to be busy for most of them, there's a school dance. I'm not going, though."

"Ah." Jacob said. And then, "I win."

I blinked, before realizing he was talking about our game. I saw that he was right, he had beaten me fair and square.

"Rematch." I said. Jacob grinned.

...

I was well rested the next morning. I couldn't remember having such a good night's sleep in a long time, and when I woke to the pearl gray morning, my mood was blissful. The tense reaction that Billy had displayed over Edward's brief presence was far overshadowed by the winnings of the day. Edward had shared parts of himself with me that I was sure he had never told anyone outside of his family, and I had shared parts of myself with him that no one I'd met had even seemed interested in.

Mike had decided to trust my judgment about Edward, at least so far. My dad liked Edward, which was important to me (and I was sure I'd be hearing about it from my mother, soon, I knew he'd feel the need to tell her). Jake and I had fun playing games and eating pizza, and above all else… I was certain Edward had nearly kissed me.

I caught myself whistling while I was pulling my hair into a barrette, and later again as I went down the stairs. My dad couldn't help but notice.

"You're cheerful this morning," he said.

"It's Friday." I shrugged, buttering a piece of toast.

"And you're seeing your new friend tomorrow," he pointed out.

"You know, one of your best qualities is that you don't pry," I said off-handedly.

"Hint taken." Dad grinned, and dropped the subject.

The moment Charlie left, I was ready to leave. I walked out the front door and my heart immediately dropped. Edward's car wasn't in my driveway.

I felt stupid for being so surprised and upset by it. Driving me to school a few times was not a contract, there was no reason he should feel obligated to do it every day, and I did have my own car. But I couldn't stop myself from being disappointed that he wasn't there.

Then Edward appeared, so poignantly that I almost doubted that he couldn't hear my thoughts.

"Edward." I said, both relieved and confused. "Where's your car?"

He grinned his crooked smile at me, stopping my heart. I couldn't imagine an angel looking more glorious. There was nothing about his appearance that I would have changed. I'd never thought falling for someone could happen so fast and hard, that any doubts could be lost so quickly. It was scary and wonderful all at once.

"You look worried!" He said, shifting on his feet. He was wearing a dark leather jacket over a forest-green button-up shirt that set off his pale skin and somehow made his hair look redder. He walked toward me, his movements so catlike that he appeared almost unreal to me.

"I didn't see your car, so I thought…" I started, but was suddenly embarrassed. "Not that I think – I mean, I don't _expect_ you to come every day, but you have been… and after you saw Billy Black last night… I don't know!" I bit my thumbnail to keep from saying anything more.

"It's okay," he said. I wondered if he really understood how appealing his voice was. "It didn't even occur to me not to meet you here. I guess that's kind of crazy, though, isn't it?"

"No, it's sweet." I said. I stepped toward him. "Did you walk here?"

"Sort of." He said. "I ran from my house. I have extraordinary stamina compared to, well. You know."

"So we'll take my car?" I said. I wasn't certain why he had felt the need to walk – or run – to my house.

"Yes, if that's alright. I'm leaving with Alice at lunch, and I didn't want you to find yourself without a ride home." He said.

"Oh." I responded. "Well, hop in, before we're late!"

He smiled and got into my truck. As we fastened our seatbelts, I pushed away the curiosity about why he was leaving school early. "You know, you don't have to worry about me getting a ride. Even if I didn't have my car. Tyler and Mike both have cars, and I think Angela has one too."

He gave me an odd look. "Ah. Yes, Tyler or Mike would give you a ride home if you asked."

Something about his tone bothered me. "Or Angela." I said.

"Yeah."

There was a long silence, and I nearly startled myself when I broke it with the roar of my engine. "Would you have a problem with me riding home with another guy?" I asked.

"Well, yeah, Bella. I thought you and I were – no, never mind." He said, covering his mouth with one hand. He somehow made leaning his elbow against the interior of the door look elegant.

"What, dating?" I pressed, pulling out of the driveway.

"Yeah."

"We are." I said. It troubled me that he was angry at the mere idea of me being alone with another boy. We had only gone on one real date, and had made no commitments to each other. But I wanted to be diplomatic, because I had such strong feelings for Edward already. I tried to keep my tone calm. "Those guys are my friends. And I wouldn't do anything with them that would hurt you. You trust me about that, don't you?"

"It's them I don't trust." He argued, giving me an annoyed look.

"No it isn't." I snapped. "That's just an excuse that people make to rationalize their petty jealousy."

"Are you calling me petty?" He was definitely angry now.

"Not in general, but in this moment? Yes! You're jealous over a situation that wouldn't warrant it, even if it _wasn't_ imaginary."

"I'm not jealous!" He said. He made a helpless, irritated sound and turned to look out the window. His lips pressed together into a hard line. "It's just, you don't know what they think about!"

"I don't know what _you_ think about, either." I said.

"That's different." He ground out.

"No, it isn't."

We drove in silence for what felt like an eternity. I knew he was hurt and annoyed. The truth was that it _was_ different. I had feelings for Edward that I didn't have for the other boys. He was also the only one of them that wanted to drink my blood. I realized that he probably wasn't still arguing because he felt being a vampire was a point against him. In a way it was; I trusted Edward and his self-control, but in an objective sense he was far more likely to hurt me than my other friends were.

"Where are you going, at lunch?" I asked, trying to break the tension.

"Hunting." He answered flatly. "If I'm going to be alone with you tomorrow, I'm going to take whatever precautions I can." His face was suddenly colored by doubt. "You can always cancel, you know."

I wondered if he was saying that because he was still worried for my safety, or if he thought our minor argument was the end of our sort-of relationship. "I don't want to cancel." I said.

"Are you sure? It might… be better. Pepper spray won't work on me."

I felt a brief thrum of fear in my chest, but it was gone before I could even contemplate whether it was worth listening to. "What time will I see you tomorrow?" I asked, as we pulled into the school lot. I wouldn't let him talk me out of the date.

"That depends… do you want to sleep in? It is a Saturday."

"No." I answered quickly. He restrained a smile.

"The same time as usual, then," he said. "Will your dad be home?"

"No, he's fishing tomorrow." I beamed, pleased that I wouldn't have to listen to them talk about their mutual hobby for any length of time before Edward and I would be free to leave the house.

Edward, on the other hand, looked angry at my comment. "And if you don't come home, what will he think?"

"Why, are you planning to kidnap me?" I asked, my tone a little more incredulous than it probably needed to be.

"I just want a little accountability!" Edward said, his tone heating up again.

"No, you want to make things more difficult because you're not used to opening up, and it scares you!"

"That's not what scares me!" He snarled, and the fear in my chest returned. I was glad we were in the school lot. There weren't enough kids there yet to notice that Edward and I were arguing, but there were enough people milling around before school that he quickly calmed himself down. It hit me again how excruciatingly aware of other people he was. No matter what he did, he would always know what the people observing him were thinking. It was no wonder he was so isolated. It would be hard to know how people judged your every move.

"You don't understand how difficult it is for me to be around you, no matter how much I want to. It's a constant battle to – to _resist_." He said.

"You're right, I don't understand." I said. "And I probably never will. I can't experience that for myself – "

"Trust me, Bella, you don't want to know what it feels like." Edward interjected.

"I know." I responded quickly. "But I think you're trying to sabotage yourself, too. I trust you to have control over your feelings. And I know this is all still really new, but… I think it's worth it."

"It's worth it." He repeated. "What is?"

"You, Edward," I said, unable to hide the hint of smile. "I think you are worth the risk."

"Oh," he said, as if my answer would never have occurred to him. His blank look chased my smile away, leaving behind a throbbing sympathy for him. How had he not understood what I meant?

"You know, people as good-looking as you usually value themselves a little more," I said.

"I value myself." He said, though I could tell even he thought it sounded weak. He sighed. "I don't want you to feel sorry for me, Bella. Let's talk about something else."

"Okay." I agreed.

"I'm sorry if I seem… I don't know. Grouchy, today." He said.

"Everyone's grouchy sometimes," I grinned. "I'll forgive you when you're grouchy if you'll forgive me when I am."

"Deal." He smiled back to me.

"So, what are you hunting today?" I asked.

"Whatever we find in the park. We aren't going far."

"You're going with Alice?"

"Alice is the most… supportive." He frowned as he spoke.

"And the others?" I asked softly. "What are they?"

"Surprised." He said. "Worried. Angry."

I looked through my rearview mirror as the Cullens pulled into the parking lot. Edward saw me followed my gaze. They all looked in our direction as we watched them. They looked different with only four, their beautiful, bronze-haired brother sitting next to me, his eyes troubled.

"They don't like me." I guessed.

"That's not it," he disagreed. "They don't understand what I'm doing. The others never bonded with a human after they were turned, except Esme, and she was thousands of years old already when it happened. And she didn't have personal contact with Carlisle until after she turned him. They didn't go through this kind of relationship."

"But aren't Jasper and Alice together? And Emmett and Rosalie?"

"Yes, but they didn't get together until after they were all turned. It wasn't dangerous. They're afraid of what you could mean for our family's safety. They don't understand why I can't leave you alone."

"Neither can I, for that matter."

Edward shook his head slowly, a breath escaping through his teeth. "You don't see yourself clearly at all. You're not like anyone I know."

I frowned. Was he teasing me? He smiled, deciphering my expression. "Having the advantages I do," he touched his forehead discreetly, "I have a better than average grasp of human nature. It's usually… harsh. People don't go out of their way to be kind to someone like me. They can see that there's something wrong with me. Except for you, you never do what I expect. You take me by surprise again and again."

"Maybe you're wrong." I said. "Maybe you don't have as good a grasp as you think. Because Edward, there _isn't _anything wrong with you. If you gave people more of a chance, you might be surprised by them, too."

"It's not that easy, Bella. To know every little thought that anyone has about you? It's hard to warm up to someone who's expecting you to be arrogant or condescending, or an idiot or a lunatic, or whatever else. And I know that part about us is easy enough to explain. I can't hear your thoughts. It makes our interactions more natural, it gives you the privacy you need to trust me and it gives me the peace that's lacking in everyone else. It gives me a chance to – to _discover_ you. My family thinks that's all there is to it, they think it's shallow. But there's more to it… and it's not so easy to put into words – "

I watched his face as his mind worked. "It's just, you make me feel… different. You make me better somehow. I mean, there are things that I have always thought would be impossible for me. To have a real friend, or to go on a date." He gave me an embarrassed smile. "Or even to do something other than go to _school_. When we talked about what I wanted from my life, I didn't even have an answer. I've had almost a hundred years to think about it and I don't even know what I want! But when I'm with you, those things don't feel impossible anymore. All the things about my life that kept me from hoping for more, they just… don't matter anymore. You're special. You make me feel like I can be special, too."

I could feel myself blushing, the heat coming to my face. On impulse, I hugged him. He was awkwardly tense for a moment, before one hand came up to touch my back. It was short-lived, though, because he pulled back and seemed to fold in on himself. He looked away from me for a long moment. The hand that touched my back was now covering his lips, and the other had come to rest near his jaw. His fingers were trembling.

"Are you alright?" I asked, shocked.

"We probably shouldn't get that close until after the hunting trip." He said, his voice rough. I understood.

...

Edward came to say goodbye to me before he left at lunch. I stood under the cafeteria roof, looking up at him as the ever-present mist threatened to turn into actual rain. I could see my friends watching us from the lunch line, and unfortunately I could also see Edward's brothers and sisters watching us from their table with cold, dark eyes. Rosalie, his blond and breathtaking sister, seemed especially unwilling to stop staring. I wanted to look away from her, but her gaze held me until Edward noticed my distraction and gave an angry hiss under his breath.

I hadn't thought his siblings would be able to hear us talking from inside the cafeteria, but at the sound Rosalie turned her head. I was relieved to be free. I looked back at Edward – and I knew he could see the confusion and fear that widened my eyes.

His face was tight as he explained. "I'm sorry about that. She's just worried. You see… it's dangerous for more than just me if, after spending so much time with you so publicly…" He looked down.

"If?"

"If this ends… badly." He brought an uneasy hand up to his forehead, averting his eyes from my face. His anguish was plain; I yearned to comfort him, but after the way he had reacted when I'd hugged him, I feared that my touch would only make things worse.

"It won't." I said.

"You don't know that." He breathed.

"I believe it." I said, though he gave me a doubtful look. "We've been alone together before, Edward. If something bad were going to happen, it would have already."

"That's a faulty conclusion," he said bitterly.

"Edward," I sighed.

"Edward!" A high soprano voice said. Edward and I both turned to see Alice, who had left the Cullen's table and walked over to us. She placed her hand on Edward's upper arm. His expression changed instantly. The cold, passive expression that he'd worn for the first several months I'd known him replaced the more open expression he'd been had with me. He looked into my eyes. I realized he didn't want Alice to see how worried he was about our situation.

"Alice," He greeted, without looking away from me.

Alice – her short, inky hair in a halo of spiky disarray around her exquisite, elfin face – smiled attractively at me.

"Alice, this is Bella. Bella, Alice." He introduced us, gesturing casually with his hand. He gave me a wry smile, though it fell short of genuine. Alice seemed to notice, as well.

"Hello, Bella," she held out her hand to me in one fluid, graceful movement. "It's wonderful to finally meet you." Her smile was friendly, but her obsidian eyes were unreadable. I was beginning to recognize it as a theme in their family. Edward flashed a dark, private look at her.

"Hi, Alice," I responded. "I hope I'll have a chance to get to know you better soon."

She smiled at me, her eyes crinkling, making it look like an honest reaction. "What, Edward's not talking your ear off about me? I'm hurt, little brother," she winked at me when Edward pulled a face. "Are you ready to go?"

His voice was aloof. "Nearly. I'll meet you at the car."

She left without another word; her walk was so fluid, so sinuous that I felt a sharp pang of jealousy.

"Should I say 'have fun', or is that the wrong sentiment?" I asked, turning back to him.

"'Have fun' works as well as anything." He said with a small smile.

"Have fun, then." I worked to sound wholehearted, but it was difficult. I felt confused. I didn't understand how he could be so close with his family but still be so closed off from them. It was like he was isolated from the rest of the world, and isolated from his family too. Why did he seem so loyal to the family when he was always on guard around them? He could tell my enthusiasm was false.

"I'll try," he said, looking puzzled at my reaction. "You try to be safe, please."

"Safe in Forks – what a challenge."

"You seem to find ways to get into trouble," he said, lifting his eyebrows. "Promise."

"I promise to try to be safe," I recited. "I'll do the laundry tonight – that ought to be fraught with peril."

"Don't fall in," he teased.

"Don't worry, I'm a strong swimmer."

He slipped his hands into his pockets, and looked toward the parking lot. "I should go."

"I'll see you tomorrow," I sighed.

"It seems like a long time to you, doesn't it?" He asked. I nodded.

"I'll be there in the morning," he promised, smiling his crooked smile. He reached out to me, gently brushing my hair out of my face. He gave me another smile and then turned and walked away. I stared after him until he was gone.

I felt self-conscious as I turned to go into the cafeteria. The remaining Cullens as well as my various friends in the lunch room were watching me, though at least my friends tried not to seem overly curious about what Edward and I had talked about. I walked to the table and sat next to Jessica.

"She returns!" Mike said, grinning. "It's been awhile since you've graced us with your loveliness." Jessica gave Mike a warning look. "What?" He asked, holding his hands up innocently. "I was only teasing! Bella, I was teasing. I hope I didn't offend you by suggesting you might be lovely."

"Don't dig yourself any deeper for my sake, Mike," I smiled.

"So what was that all about?" Jessica asked, elbowing Mike under the table. He grinned sheepishly at me.

"Oh, Edward and his sister had an appointment this afternoon. He was a little nervous about it." I lied, feeling guilty as I did so.

"What kind of appointment?" Eric asked.

I gave a light huff of laughter. "You guys are so nosy!" I said. "He had a doctor's appointment." I wasn't good at lying in general, much less unexpectedly. In Phoenix I had been able to get by just by saying nothing at all, but in Forks, people actually wanted to know what I had to say. It complicated things and made me feel that much worse about it. I didn't like to be untruthful with my friends.

"What was he nervous about?" Mike asked. At my look of disbelief that he continued asking questions, he shrugged. "What? I never claimed not to be nosy! Cullen is usually so… you know. Ice-man. I have a hard time imagining him being nervous about anything."

I sighed, trying to come up with something. "They – they think he might have a blood disorder." I said. Although my delivery was less than convincing, the others at the table didn't seem to suspect anything. "He has to go get a bunch of tests done."

"Bummer," Eric said. "That happened to my cousin, they found out he had some kind of super-powered anemia. He had to get chemo."

"Cancer?" Mike said.

"No, it was something else, dude. Some kind of anemia. Which is why I said 'anemia'." Eric explained. The others at the table laughed, and Mike pulled a face.

"You think Cullen has something that serious?" Mike turned back to me. He actually looked concerned, which surprised me. I knew how he felt about Edward.

"I don't know," I said. I felt trapped by my lie. "He didn't want to tell me all the things they're testing for, he thought it would freak me out."

"No kidding." Jessica said. "I'd be worried, if it were me."

"I'm sure he'll be alright, Bella," Angela said, touching my hand. I felt suddenly very grateful to them. Even though they were talking about something different (that wasn't even true), I had other concerns about Edward that were soothed by their comfort.

"You two going to the dance together?" Eric asked. I saw him put his hand on Angela's shoulder, as if to reassure her that he wasn't asking out of jealousy. It was nice to see, and even nicer to see Angela smile at him, blushing lightly.

"No, remember, she's going to Seattle," Jessica said to Eric. He nodded, but I wondered if he thought I had been feeding that line to him just to let him down easy.

"Actually," I said. "After what happened in Port Angeles with those drunk guys, I decided not to go. I'll wait until we can all go together."

"Oh, that makes sense," Jessica said. She gave me an apologetic look, as though she were somehow responsible for what happened to me in Port Angeles. "Bella, you could still come to the dance, if you wanted. I have some dresses you could try on. And I know all these dumb boys would dance with you."

"Not me." Mike protested. "No offense, Bella dear, but I have been on your team in Gym all year. Precious to my heart though you are, I would prefer to come home with all my toes intact,"

"Shut up, Mike," I said, rolling my eyes at him. "It's okay, guys. I made plans with Edward, anyway. And after today, you know, I don't want to stand him up. He might need someone to talk to."

"That's really nice of you, Bella," Angela said.

"I feel like he can't talk to his family very easily," I told her. "The way he talks about them. I don't know. It doesn't seem like they support him at all."

I knew I was tempting fate, talking about the Cullens while they sat on the other side of the room. But after Rosalie's glare and the way the boys had treated Edward in front of me, I wanted them to know what I thought. Maybe it was passive-aggressive, but they had already set that precedent. I glanced over at their table. All three of them had turned their faces away from me, but were sitting as still as statues. I knew they were listening.

"Yeah, well. Remember the beach." Jessica said, her voice wavering a bit. I could see that enough time had passed since the incident that people's nerves were eased, and they were now able to talk about it.

"That was more than a lack of support, I thought," Mike said. "That was, like, violent."

"Yeah," Eric agreed. "Didn't one of them call him a traitor? And the way Jasper grabbed you, Bella…"

"How is he a traitor for going to the beach?" Jessica asked, her tone sharp. "That whole thing was crazy."

"Did Cullen tell you what that was all about?" Mike asked.

"No." I said. It was true, Edward had not discussed the incident at the beach in specific terms. I knew what it was about, of course, but that knowledge had come about later. "I tried to ask him, but he wouldn't talk about it. I think he was really embarrassed."

"Did Jasper ever apologize for grabbing you that way?" Eric asked.

"I've never talked to him." I said. "Or any of Edward's siblings, actually. They obviously don't like me."

"Pff," Mike said, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. "Who cares? I haven't seen anything to like about them."

"Except Rosalie's backside?" Jessica asked skeptically.

"She is _wearing_ those jeans!" Mike agreed with a silly grin. "That's just artistic appreciation, Jess. You wouldn't get jealous if I was appreciating a painting, would you?"

"You can't dry-hump a painting, Mike," Eric said.

"I can't dry-hump Rosalie either," Mike pointed out.

"For different reasons! Mainly, the fact that if you tried to, her brother-slash-boyfriend would break your fingers," Eric said.

"Eric, _Rosalie_ would break his fingers," I said. "And that's _not_ the main reason… I don't even want to know what _Jess_ would do to him." Jessica nodded, giving Mike a disapproving look.

"Hmm, the painting is starting to sound like a better option, here," Mike said, looking thoughtful. Jessica slapped him on the arm.

"You guys are gross!" Angela said, though I could see that she was holding back a smile. The rest of lunch passed quickly, and my mood was brightened by the lightheartedness of my friends.

...

Charlie was already gone when I woke up, which didn't surprise me. He liked to leave while it was still dark when he was going fishing, which was what I had counted on. I'd been nervous the night before and had ended up reading for much of the evening, trying to lose myself in a Narnia book I'd found on my old bookshelf. It didn't work very well, and I'd ended up taking a couple capsules of cold medicine to fall asleep, something I didn't normally do. I simply wanted to be fully rested for my date with Edward.

I ate breakfast without really tasting the food, cleaning up quickly when I was done. I dressed painstakingly, trying to look good without looking like I was _trying_ to look good. It was a very delicate balance to achieve, but I was satisfied with my sweater-blue jeans combo. I was still checking myself in the mirror when I heard a soft knock at the door, which sent my heart thudding against my ribcage.

I flew to the door and pulled the deadbolt. The door fell open and there he was. All my nerves dissolved as soon as I looked at his face, calm taking hold instead. He gave me a tentative smile, and I saw that his cheeks were rosier than usual and his eyes were the lightest I had ever seen them, like gold plate.

"You know, you don't have to run to the door," he said softly. I felt myself flush with embarrassment.

"What?" I heard myself say.

"I could hear your footsteps," he grinned.

"Even in my socks?" I said, giving him another embarrassed look.

"Even in your socks." He nodded somberly. "And it would be my advice for you to wear some sturdy shoes today, I thought we might go for a walk in the woods."

"I believe that's called a 'hike'," I teased, but I did what he suggested. "I thought you preferred to fish?"

"I thought you hated fishing," he lifted a graceful eyebrow at me.

"I do." I admitted. "It's boring and cold, and both bait and fish smell awful."

"And there you have it," he smiled. "I still like hiking, I just like fishing more."

"Even though you can't eat the fish?" I said, curious. "Or can you? Fish have blood, don't they?"

"Yes, fish have blood." He said. "But not enough to be worth sticking my mouth on a dead fish. I like fishing because it's relaxing. Peaceful. Something I can do by myself."

"What do you do with the fish, afterward?" I asked.

"I usually throw them back, but sometimes I take them home. Rosalie has a dog, he'll eat anything you put in front of him." He wrinkled his nose a bit.

I stood, smoothing my shirt with my hands. I smiled at him and stepped out the door, locking it behind me. I saw that his car wasn't there, and looked at him in surprise.

"I came by foot again," he explained. "I thought it would be better if you took your own car."

"Why?" I asked.

"Two reasons… if something happens, you have a better chance to get away from me on your own. Also, it will be clearer that something is wrong if you don't come home even though you have your car." Edward said, his tone serious.

I swallowed, not sure what to say about that. I walked to my car and got in, waiting for him to buckle his seatbelt before we left.

"Where to?" I said, once we were settled.

"Take the 101 North," he said.

It was surprisingly difficult to concentrate on the road while feeling his gaze on my face. I compensated by driving more carefully than usual through the still-sleeping down.

"Were you planning to make it out of Forks before nightfall?"

"This truck is old enough to be your car's grandfather – have some respect." I said.

"I'm old enough to be _your_ grandfather. Where's my respect?" He asked. I laughed.

"No," I said. "That doesn't count. You've been going to high school for fifty years, if that's not a symptom of arrested development, I don't know what is."

He pulled a face at me, but his mood was so good that he didn't seem insulted, though I had a moment of worry that he would be after I'd spoken. I could see that having fed so heavily had made him feel more optimistic about the day.

We were soon out of the town limits, despite his skepticism. Thick underbrush and green-swathed trunks replaced the lawns and houses.

"Turn right on the 110," he instructed just as I was about to ask.

"So Rosalie has a dog?" I asked. "She doesn't seem the type,"

He gave me an odd look. "You don't know her," he said simply.

I didn't say anything, at first. Rosalie had given me no opportunity to know her, and had given me hostile looks ever since I'd started spending time with Edward. What was I supposed to think? "What kind of a dog is it?" I asked.

"He's a German Shorthaired Pointer, his name is Moose. She wanted to get a little dog, one of those little yappy ones that people carry in their purses. Emmett wanted a big, slobbery mastiff. They compromised. I think the breed is supposed to be intelligent, but hers is dumber than dirt."

"Isn't it dangerous for you to have a pet? I mean, isn't it kind of risky for the animal?"

He gave me an empty smile. "Not really," he said. "We don't crave the blood of animals the way we crave human blood. It's something you rather have to make yourself drink, not something you actually find appetizing. The dog is much safer with us than you are."

I frowned, glancing away from him. I wished he would stop reminding me that I was in danger. "How far do I have to go?" I asked.

"Drive until the pavement ends," he said.

"My dad said it would be warm today," I said.

"Did he seem uneasy about you coming out with me today?" Edward asked.

"No, not at all." I said. "He teased me a little about it. I think…" I stopped myself.

"What?" His face was concerned.

"Well, when I first started school, and we had that class together? The bad one… I didn't know how to describe what had happened. I said that you ignored me during class. Ever since then, he's thought I had a crush on you, so. Now that we've started going out he likes to do the teasing dad thing."

"Oh," he said, giving me a vague smile. I could tell he still felt bad about that class, even though we'd moved past it already.

The road ended, constricting to a thin foot trail with a small wooden marker. I parked on the narrow shoulder and stepped out. It was warm now, warmer than it had been in Forks since the day I'd arrived, almost muggy under the clouds. I pulled off my sweater and knotted it around my waist, glad that I'd worn the light, sleeveless shirt – especially since we were hiking.

I heard his door slam, and looked over. He hadn't removed his light jacket, and it occurred to me that temperature didn't seem to bother him. Even the first time I'd been in his car, he'd turned the heat on. For me.

He faced away from me, into the unbroken forest beside my truck.

"This way," he said, glancing over his shoulder at me. His eyes were guarded.

"There's no trail?" I asked, a hint of anxiety in my voice. He smiled.

"There's a trail over there, but I want to show you something else. I don't take the trail. I won't get you lost," he turned then, with a sardonic smile. My doubt vanished, and I took in the sight of him. His dark blue shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, so that the smooth white skin of his throat flowed uninterrupted over the marble contours of his chest, his musculature unconcealed. The thin sunlight shone on his bronze hair, making him look warmer somehow. He was too perfect, I thought. It was almost impossible that this beautiful creature could really want to be with me.

He stared at me as I stared at him, his eyebrows drawing together as he became more bewildered by my silence.

"Do you want to go home?" he said quietly, pain saturating his voice.

"No." I walked forward until I was beside him, unexpectedly anxious not to waste one second of time with him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"I'm used to hiking on trails," I said, instead of sharing my own insecurities with him. "You'll have to be very patient."

"I can be patient – if I make a great effort." He smiled, holding my glance, trying to lift me out of my abrupt unexplained resistance to the trip. I tried to smile back, but the smile was unconvincing. He scrutinized my face.

"You're scared," he accused. I was surprised that he thought that, and then felt stupid. Of course he would think I was suddenly reluctant because of fear. I _should_ be afraid. But I wasn't, and somehow my self-doubt felt cheap next to his. "I'll take you home." He said.

"You can't take me home, you didn't bring your car." I said, making my decision then and there. I couldn't expect him to share himself with me if I was afraid to risk my feelings. I could either be all-in or end things right now. "You can, however, lead the way. After all, I don't know where we're going."

His frown shifted, sharing a more hopeful look with me, before turning and leading into the forest.

It wasn't as hard as I had feared. The way was mostly flat, and he held the damp ferns and webs of moss aside for me. When his straight path took us over fallen trees or boulders, he would help me, climbing up first and extending his solid grip out to help me up. His cool touch on my skin never failed to make my heart thud erratically. Twice, when that happened, I caught a look on his face that made me certain he could actually hear it. Once, his shoe slid on the wet moss and for a terrifying moment I thought he would fall on top of me, but almost as soon as he began to slip his leg moved in a blur to reset his stance on a drier part of the log.

I tried not to stare too heavily at him as we moved, but seeing the way he picked through the forest and the beauty of his face made it impossible. Seeing how different he was out here – far away from the intrusion of other people's thoughts – pierced me with sadness. I was realizing that even when we were alone in the car, he was at the mercy of the neighborhood. Anywhere in Forks, he could hear other people. It was never just him, never private.

Out here, without the barrage of sound from other people, he was comfortable – even happy. His entire physical presence seemed to change, he moved with freedom and lightheartedness. I could see that the hike was exhilarating to him, and the farther we went the more at ease he seemed to become. He held his fingers out to touch the soft trunks of trees as we walked, as if they weren't real until he felt them with his hands. He leaped casually from the top of boulders, landing with perfect balance every time.

"You love it out here," I said after we had hiked in silence for a while. He turned, walking backwards while he looked at me. He was smiling more easily than I had ever seen before.

"I guess so," he said. It was clear that he didn't even need to look where he was going to hike, as he frequently turned and looked away from the path he was walking. "It feels like stepping into another world, doesn't it?"

"You seem so different," I said, smiling. "At home you seem… I don't know. Like you set yourself apart from things."

He grinned at me, his white teeth gleaming. "I can't bring my problems to a new world, can I? Otherwise, what's the point?"

The hike took me most of the morning, though Edward never showed any sign of impatience. To my amazement, I wasn't frustrated or impatient either… it was too nice to see Edward when he was feeling uninhibited for me to worry about where we were going or when we'd get there. The forest spread out around us in a boundless labyrinth of ancient trees, and I began to wonder if we would ever find our way out again. Edward was perfectly at ease, comfortable in the green maze, never seeming to feel any doubt about our direction.

After several hours, the light that filtered through the canopy transformed, the murky olive tone shifting to a brighter jade. The day had turned sunny, just as Edward had predicted. I felt a thrill of excitement, wondering what would happen when he went into the sun.

"We're nearly there," he smiled. "Do you see the brightness ahead?"

I peered into the thick forest. "Should I?"

He smirked. "Maybe it's a bit soon for your puny _human_ eyes."

"Or maybe it's time to visit the optometrist," I said. His smirk grew more pronounced.

After another hundred yards, I could definitely see a lightening in the trees ahead, a glow that was yellow instead of green. I picked up the pace, my eagerness growing with every step. He let me lead now, following noiselessly. Trepidation had returned to his face, looking out-of-place after he'd been unconcerned for so long.

I hesitated at his expression, but kept walking. I reached the edge of the pool of light and stepped through the last fringe of ferns into the loveliest place I had ever seen. The meadow was small, perfectly round, and filled with wildflowers. Somewhere nearby, I could hear the bubbling music of a stream. The sun was directly overhead, filling the circle with a haze of buttery sunshine. I walked slowly, delighted, through the soft grass and swaying flowers. I halfway turned, wanting to share my appreciation with him, but he wasn't behind me. He was still under the dense shade of the canopy at the edge of the hollow, watching me with cautious eyes.

I took a step back toward him, my eyes alight with curiosity. His eyes were wary, reluctant. I frowned, wanting to reassure him somehow, and took another step back. He shook his head, as if trying to deny any reservations he had about what he was about to do. He seemed to take a deep breath, and then he stepped out into the bright glow of the midday sun.


	12. Chapter 12: Confessions

12. CONFESSIONS

Edward in the sunlight was shocking. I couldn't get used to it, though I'd been staring at him all afternoon. His skin, pale despite the faint flush from yesterday's hunting trip, seemed almost transparent. Dark veins appeared, more prominent than I'd ever seen in a human being, in a blue web under his skin. It was especially noticeable on his face, where they clustered around his eyes and made his lips look a deep blue, as if he was freezing. His ears also looked blue, even as the sunlight passed through the thin flesh there.

He sat perfectly still in the grass, letting me look at him with a detached expression. His sleeves rolled up and arms bare, jacket discarded in the grass, I could see the dark, heavy veins of his limbs close to the surface of his skin. His fingertips were blue, like his lips and ears, but the tint spread farther – impossible to miss. Now and then, his expression would look concerned, but it would disappear as quickly as it arrived. He was afraid to let me see how worried he was.

Hesitantly, afraid that he would disappear like a mirage, I reached out one finger and touched his cheek, following the pattern of one dark vein that trailed its way to his jaw. Edward flinched as I touched him, and his breath caught in his throat.

"What is it?" I asked softly, my own voice sounding unfamiliar to me, like it didn't belong in this dream.

"I don't know," he admitted, though the words seemed difficult for him to say. "Carlisle thinks it has to do with low oxygen in the blood, since we don't require oxygen to function. But that doesn't explain it entirely… if it were only that, it would be visible all the time. We don't know why it appears only in direct sunlight. Possibly, the direct light removes the visual enchantment altogether… this might be what we really look like, without the illusion."

I took one of his hands in mine, tracing the lines of color in amazement. "If you don't need oxygen, why do you breathe at all?"

"Habit, mostly…" he said. "But we do need it to smell, to speak. Neither of those are necessary though, not all the time. There are times when I do not breathe, if I feel there is a scent that is too… powerful."

I marveled at the perfect texture of his skin, satin smooth, cool as stone. When I looked up again, his eyes were sharp, watching me closely.

"I don't scare you?" he asked, doubt heavy in his voice.

"No,"

A disbelieving smile flashed across his face, his teeth shining in the sun. I inched closer, taking his hand in mine and threading my fingers through his. His smile returned more solidly now, astonished. I touched his arm with my other hand, tracing the dark lines up to the crease of his elbow.

"You can't imagine how that feels," he said. I wasn't sure if he meant the sensation of my hands on him, or that I wasn't scared. I smiled at him.

"You're not ticklish, are you?" I asked.

"Not anymore," he chuckled. He watched me examine him quietly, suddenly intent. "Tell me what you're thinking," he whispered. "It's still so strange for me, not knowing."

I smiled. "You know, the rest of us feel that way all the time."

He gave a breathy laugh, leaning closer to me. "Please?"

"I was wishing you could see yourself the way I do," I said. "It's like you can't believe anyone could accept you."

He looked down, but his fingers closed around mine. He shifted so that we faced each other more fully, hands still clasped. "I just – I don't want you to be afraid." His voice was a soft murmur.

"Edward…" I sighed. "The only thing that I'm afraid of is that you'll give up."

"Give up?" His face was only a few inches from mine. I might have – should have – flinched away from his closeness, but I was unable to move. His golden eyes mesmerized me.

"It seems like you expect me to reject you so much that, sometimes, you just don't bother. I'm not scared of what you are, I'm scared that you're so ashamed of it that you won't ever open up."

He looked down, his eyebrows drawing together. "It's hard for me, Bella, you know that."

"I know," I said. "Just don't give up."

He didn't say anything, but leaned his head toward mine. Unthinkingly, drawn forward by something I didn't understand, I did the same. I inhaled, smelling a scent unlike anything else, the scent of him. Sweet but sharp, and enormously alluring.

And he was gone, his hands ripped from mine. In the time it took my eyes to focus, he was twenty feet away, standing at the edge of the meadow, in the deep shade of a huge fir tree. His hands were up against the trunk of the tree, his head angled away from me, face hidden from view.

I could feel the hurt and shock on my face. My empty hands stung.

"Give me a moment," he said, his voice carrying across the meadow. I sat very still. After ten very long seconds, he walked back, slowly. He stopped several feet away, and sank gracefully to the ground. His eyes never left mine. He hesitated. "I am so very sorry."

I nodded once. Adrenaline pulsed through my body as the realization of danger slowly sank in. I got the feeling that my rapid pulse and heightened anxiety was something he could sense. His expression changed. He actually eyed me hungrily, before the look was forced away.

"I am the world's best predator, Bella." He said, his voice rough. "Everything about me invites you in – my voice, my face, even my _smell_. As if I need any of that!" He was on his feet in a flash, moving so quickly I couldn't even follow it.

"As if you could outrun me," he laughed bitterly, running a full circle of the meadow in a single breath. "As if you could fight me off!" He appeared in front of me. I stood in alarm and took a shaky step backward, shocked by how close he was in so little time.

He saw my fear and backed several feet away in the span of a second. "Please forgive me," he said, his voice almost too soft for me to hear.

I couldn't speak, my hands shaking. The helpless, horrified look on his face at my reaction finally softened my fear. I walked toward him and sat down, putting my hands on his again. He gave me a repentant look, shame coloring his features.

"Now that you've gotten that out of the way…" I said.

He gave me an uncomprehending look. "Gotten what out of the way?"

"Your final effort to scare me off." I said. "Unless you were demonstrating your physical powers for some other reason?"

Edward blinked, his face blank. "How can you still want to be with me? I'm _dangerous_, Bella!"

"You showed me what you can do. You didn't actually hurt me." I said. "And for what it's worth, if you're looking for life goals? Track star. You'll become an Olympic legend."

He laughed, then, louder than I'd ever heard him. Bell-like echoes bounced back to us from the empty woods. When the laughter faded, he stared at me in wonder. As many years of unfathomable experience as he had, this was completely new for him.

"The key would be pulling your punches, only going just fast enough to win, not so fast that people would notice something unusual about you." I added.

"I think they'll notice _this_!" He gestured at his face, grinning broadly. I touched the visible, unmistakable veins under his skin.

"I have some foundation that might cover it," I said. "Heavy duty stuff."

He laughed again, his voice ringing melodically.

He gave me another amazed look. "I can't give up at this point," he said. "It's all or nothing for me, now. Which is exactly why I should leave. But, I'm essentially a selfish creature. I crave your company too much to do what I should."

"I'm glad," I admitted.

"Don't be." He withdrew his hands from mine, more gently this time. His voice was rough, harsher than usual. It was still more beautiful than any human voice. "It's not only your company I crave. Never forget that. Never forget that I'm more dangerous to you than I am to anyone else."

He gazed into the forest, eyes unseeing. I followed his gaze.

"What do you mean, more dangerous to me?" I asked.

He looked back at me and shrugged helplessly, his mood shifting once more. I took his hands again. "How do I explain?" He mused. "Without frightening you again..? Every person… smells different, has a different essence. And once a vampire has tasted human blood, it becomes like a drug. You could consider my family and I to be 'in recovery', resisting the temptation to partake. And most of the time, it's difficult. But with you, it's a whole other _level_; it's something so irresistible it takes constant control to prevent… disaster."

"So what you're trying to say is, I'm your brand of heroin?"

He smiled, seeming to appreciate my effort to understand. "Yes, exactly." He said.

"Does that happen often?"

"I tried to speak to my brothers about it. Jasper couldn't even have the conversation, he… had a recent relapse." He gave me a dark look. "If it weren't for Alice – " He shook his head. "Anyway. It's a struggle for Jasper to abstain at all. But it seems he has never come across someone who was" – he hesitated, looking for the right word – "as _appealing_ as you are to me. Emmett is more open, anyway, he has no trouble talking about anything. He understood what I meant. He says twice, for him, once stronger than the other."

"And for you?"

"Until now? Never."

The word hung there for a moment in the warm breeze.

"What did Emmett do?" I asked.

It was the wrong question to ask. His face grew dark, his hand clenched into a fist inside mine. He looked away. "Emmett… believes it is fate." The tone with which he spoke made me certain that he wasn't talking about a good fate.

"I guess I know." I finally said.

He lifted his eyes, his expression pleading. "Even the strongest fall off the wagon, don't they?"

"What are you asking? My permission?" My voice was sharper than I'd intended. It wasn't that I didn't trust Edward, it was that he tried to excuse his brothers. Murderers. I amended my comment. "Do you think there's no hope, then? That eventually, you'll…"

"No, no!" He said, looking panicked. "Of course there's hope! I mean, of course I won't…" He left the sentence hanging. His eyes burned into mine. "It's different for us. Emmett… these were strangers he happened across. It was a long time ago, and he wasn't as… careful as he is now." He fell silent and watched me intently as I thought it through.

"We were strangers, too." I said firmly. "How could they be anything else? It isn't as if their scent would suddenly change after he got to know them. We would never have become more than strangers if you hadn't resisted."

He gave me a confused look, guarded at what he saw as an attack on his brother.

"You're stronger than him, Edward." I said at last. "This isn't a case of the strongest falling off the wagon. He's not stronger than you just because he's older."

"You don't understand. It took everything I had not to jump up in the middle of that class and – " He stopped abruptly, looking away. "When you walked past me, I could have ruined everything Carlisle has built for us, right then and there. If I hadn't been denying my thirst for the last, well, many years… I wouldn't have been able to stop myself."

We looked at each other, both remembering our first meeting.

"You must have thought I was possessed." He said.

"I couldn't understand why. How you could hate me so quickly…"

"To me, it was like you were some kind of specter, summoned straight from my own darkness to ruin me. The power of your… fragrance… I thought it would make me deranged. That first day, in that one hour, I thought of a hundred different ways to get you alone. And I fought each of them back, thinking of my family, what it could do to them. What it would do to me... I had to run out, to get away before I could speak the words that would make you follow."

He looked up then at my staggered expression as I tried to absorb his bitter memories. His golden eyes scorched from under his lashes, deadly. There was a question there.

"I wouldn't have gone," I tried to speak calmly. I remembered how unsettling his behavior had been.

"Yes, you would. I could have made you." He said. He frowned down at his hands, releasing me from the force of his stare. "I tried to rearrange my schedule in a pointless attempt to avoid you, and then, you were there – in that close, warm little room – the scent was maddening. I so very nearly took you then. There was only one other frail human there, so easily dealt with."

I shivered in the warm sun, seeing my memories anew through his eyes, only now grasping the danger. I'd come so close to being an inadvertent facilitator to her death. And remembering the discomfort I'd felt around him, I knew that in that room, at that time, it would have been a terrifying death to experience. Not that I thought any type of death was desired, but it was different to build fear up and then have that fear come true.

"I don't know how I resisted. Guilt, or shame, or fear… I forced myself not to wait for you, not to follow you. It was easier outside, when I couldn't smell you anymore, to think clearly. I left the others near home – I was too ashamed to tell them how weak I was, they only knew something was very wrong – and then I went straight to Carlisle, at the hospital, to tell him I was leaving. I went to Alaska without even returning home." He sounded dismayed, as if admitting a great cowardice.

"I spent two days there with some old acquaintances. We've lived there a number of times. But I was homesick… I hated knowing I'd disappointed Carlisle and Esme, and I knew the rest of them must be judging me harshly for leaving rather than dealing with the problem. I decided to return, but I needed to be prepared. I took precautions, hunting, feeding more than usual. I was sure that I could be strong enough to treat you like any other human. It was unquestionably a complication that I couldn't simply read your thoughts to know what your reaction was to me. I couldn't resist listening in on your friends. I felt like I was violating them somehow, and it was difficult to wade through all their extraneous thoughts to find what was relevant. Even when I did find things about you, I couldn't know how reliable they were."

"You could have just spoken to me." I said.

"I wanted you to forget my behavior that first day, if possible. I did try to talk with you, like I would with any person. You didn't make it easy on me." I couldn't prevent the smile that appeared on my face. I saw him smile slightly in response.

"You wouldn't just let it go that I had treated you that way. Made me apologize. No one has ever done that before, usually the – the _dazzle_ – makes them compliant." He sighed. "I should have known then that there was something more to you, but I tried to convince myself you were just another – unusually strong-willed – human. But it wasn't just that you weren't sensitive to my abilities, you actually tried to connect with me. You wanted to know me even though you weren't coerced into it. And then, when you tried to save me from Tyler's van…"

I squeezed his hand.

"You risked your life to help me, someone you had no reason to help. No one else in that school would have done that, especially not for me. But it also proved something to me. You bled that day, and I was able to resist. Against all odds. And I wanted, badly wanted to taste that blood. A few times I almost," he gave an incredulous laugh. "Almost licked your wound! Can you imagine anything more disturbing? But I'd exposed us for what we were, to you, and I didn't know how to handle that."

His face became agonized, and I waited eagerly for him to continue. I was relieved to understand while also realizing I should be more terrified. I was filled with compassion for his suffering, even now, as he confessed his craving to take my life.

"Why did you act the way you did in the hospital?" I asked.

His eyes flashed up to mine. "I was appalled. I couldn't believe I had put us in danger after all, put myself in your power. As if my family needed another reason to push me to kill you." We both flinched as the word slipped out. "I fought with them about it constantly. Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper all said that now was the time. The worst fights I've ever had with them. Carlisle and Alice sided with me." He grimaced. I couldn't imagine why. "Esme has maintained from the beginning that I should simply change you."

"Change me?" I asked, shocked. "What if I'd said 'no'?"

"She wasn't suggesting I ask you first," he said bluntly. I understood suddenly what he meant, and why he had never brought it up with me before. "That's what she did with Carlisle. She had been watching him for months, and she witnessed him suffering an attack that would have killed him. She turned him for her own sake, rather than let him die as a man. He hated her for what she did to him, he thought she had damned him. It was years before he forgave her, and longer still for them to fall in love. I couldn't bear the idea of turning you against your will, making you into something you'd hate."

"Oh." I said. "I'm… glad you didn't do that, Edward."

"It was unconscionable to me." He said. "After the van incident, I broke my rule and listened to the minds and words of everyone around you. I had to know if they suspected anything. They didn't, you kept your word. I couldn't believe it. But I thought it was too dangerous, with the feelings I was starting to have… I tried to end all contact, to stop anything from growing between us. It seemed like playing with fire. My family encouraged me in trying to avoid you. Anytime I mentioned your name they would tell me to stay away. Emmett started responding by graphically describing all the possible outcomes of us spending time together. Jasper would threaten me, telling me that if I stumbled he was sure to follow…"

"That is extremely manipulative of them, Edward." I said, stunned.

"They were doing it to help me." He argued. "They thought I would expose us."

"You didn't." I pointed out.

"I knew after the hospital that if I hurt you, I could never live with myself. You don't know how it tortured me, thinking about what might happen." He turned his gold eyes toward me again, taking my breath away. "You're the most important thing to me, now."

My head was spinning at the rapid change in direction our conversation had taken. From the oh-so-cheerful topic of Edward's struggles and his family's horrifying relationship with him, we were suddenly declaring ourselves. He waited, and even though I looked down to study our hands between us, I knew his gaze was still on me.

"You already know how I feel," I finally said. "I'm here, right? Roughly translated, I would risk my life for your sake." I smiled self-deprecatingly. "Am I an idiot?"

"Probably. It's alright, I am too." He smiled. Our eyes met and we laughed together at the sheer impossibility of the moment.

"So, before… when you jumped away…" I began. Edward's eyes turned serious again. "What did I do wrong? I'll have to learn what I shouldn't do. This seems to be all right…" I stroked his arm as I had done earlier. I realized that, oddly, I didn't really notice the dark veins anymore. It had become background to me.

"You didn't do anything wrong," he said, smiling again. "It was my fault."

"I want to help." I said. "I don't want to make it harder for you."

"It was just how close you were," he admitted. "Most humans shy away when they get that close. Instinct, I guess. Our appearance invites you in to a certain point – just enough that your capture is inevitable. But eventually our alienness breaks the façade. I wasn't expecting you to come so close, and… the smell of your _throat_…" He stopped short.

"Okay, then." I said flippantly, trying to alleviate the tense atmosphere. I tucked my chin. "No throat exposure."

It worked; he laughed. "It was more surprise than anything else." He raised his free hand and placed it gently on the side of my neck. I sat very still. The coolness of his touch was a natural warning. I knew that I ought to be afraid, but I wasn't. There were other feelings, instead.

"You see," he said. "Perfectly fine."

With deliberate slowness, his hand slid down the side of my neck. I shivered, and heard him catch his breath. But his hands didn't pause, moving to my shoulders, then stopping. He leaned forward and pressed his cool cheek against the hollow at the base of my throat. I was quite unable to move, even if I'd wanted to. I listened to the sound of his even breathing, watching the sun and wind play in his hair, the most human part of him. His face drifted to the side, his head dropping. His ear pressed tenderly against my chest.

Listening to my heart.

I don't know how long we sat that way. It could have been hours. Eventually the throb of my pulse quieted, but he didn't move or speak again as he held me. I knew at any moment it could be too much, and my life could end – so quickly that I might not even notice. And I couldn't make myself be afraid. I couldn't think of anything, except that he was touching me.

When he released me, his eyes were peaceful.

"It won't be so difficult again," he said with satisfaction.

"Was that very hard for you?"

"Not nearly how I imagined it would be. You?"

"It wasn't bad at all," I said. "For me."

I touched his cheek, surprised at the difference to how it'd felt earlier. "Do you feel how warm it is?" He asked. I smiled, and after a pause he continued. "I wish I could explain how confusing this is for me. There are hungers I am not accustomed to. Hungers I don't understand, that I are foreign to me... I'm not used to feeling so human. Is it always like this?"

"For me?" I asked. "Never before this."

"I don't know how to be close to you." He admitted. "I don't know if I can."

I leaned forward and put my head against his chest, just as he had with me. I felt his arms wrap around me, pressing his face against my hair. "This is enough," I sighed. "Anything else, we'll figure out as we go."

The light was beginning to fade. "We have to go." He said at last, something that I had known was coming. "Your dad will be wondering where you are."

I pulled away from him and looked up at his face. He brought one of his hands up to touch my hair, coming to rest on the side of my face. He was significantly taller than I was, and when he leaned his head forward, for a moment I thought it was merely to look at me more directly. But then he hesitated. I don't know whether he meant to prolong the moment, to gauge my reaction or build the anticipation, or if he was testing himself to make sure he was still in control. All I know was that in the second of hesitation, I understood what was happening. Then his cool, gentle lips pressed very softly against mine.

For a moment it was sweet, innocent. But as we continued to kiss, things changed. Blood boiled beneath my skin, burned into my lips. My breath came erratically, in a gasp. I didn't consciously raise my arm, but somehow my fingers knotted in his hair, clutching him to me. My lips parted and for a moment, his did too, before his body language changed. He tried to pull away, and realizing that my hand was still gripping his hair, he took my face in his hands and separated us. I opened my eyes to see his flushed cheeks, and his ruffled expression.

"We need to stop," he muttered. His eyes were wild, his jaw now clenched in acute restraint, yet he didn't lapse from his perfect articulation. He held my face just inches from his.

"Should I…?" I moved to disengage myself, to give him some room.

"No, wait!" He said, his hands still touching my face. "It's okay, I want to learn to control myself. So I can do this again." He smiled broadly, and I felt myself flushing. He pressed his lips against my forehead. "I'm stronger than I thought," he said afterward. "It's nice to know."

"I knew you were strong." I said, smiling. "I don't know how strong I'll be, next time. You've got my expectations up now."

He grinned again, and bit his lip apologetically. "We really should go."


	13. Chapter 13: Mind over Matter

13. MIND OVER MATTER

We sat in my driveway, the windows rolled down. My dad wasn't home yet, and we enjoyed our privacy while it lasted. The warm wind blew through my hair as we listened to the radio, our hands twined together. Edward had turned the radio to an oldies station, and he sang along with a song I'd never heard. He knew every line.

"You like fifties music?" I asked.

"Music in the fifties was good. Much better than the sixties, or the seventies, ugh!" He shuddered. "The eighties were bearable."

I gave him an affronted look, though I was more amused than I let on. "Excuse me!" I said. "Music in the sixties and seventies was great! I can't believe you prefer eighties music to seventies. That's just wrong."

He grinned at me, surprised. "Come on, the music in the fifties and eighties was _fun_. The sixties and seventies were all about making a statement. All principles and pessimism, no enthusiasm whatsoever."

"Sounds right up your alley," I said, lifting an eyebrow at him.

"Bella, Bella, Bella. I think you'd better just trust my expertise on this one. I was there. I know things." He said, giving a dramatic edge to his inflection.

"Are you ever going to tell me how old you are?" I asked, tentative. I didn't want to upset his buoyant humor.

"I'm surprised you don't already know…" He said. "I gave you enough details about my human life, I assumed you would look it up."

I shook my head. "You know, it didn't even cross my mind." I said. It really hadn't. "I guess I thought you'd tell me, when you were ready."

He'd brought his free hand up to his mouth, and gave me a bland smile. "I just, I wonder if it will upset you…" he said. "To really know, for certain."

"Try me." I finally said. He looked into my eyes for a time. Whatever he saw there must have encouraged him.

"I was born in Chicago in 1901." He paused and glanced at me from the corner of his eyes. My face was carefully unsurprised, patient to hear more. He smiled a tiny smile and continued. "I told you how I died, the Spanish influenza. Summer of 1918. My mother died just before I did – would have… however you'd phrase it. I don't remember much of it. The illness was pretty brutal, I wasn't exactly in the clearest mind at the time." He was lost in his thoughts for a short time before he went on. "I do remember how it felt, when Carlisle changed me. It's not an easy thing, not something you could forget. Mine was unusually bad because of how sick I was when he began. Most people, healthy people, it takes about three days to turn completely. It took me twelve."

"How did he… save you?"

A few seconds passed before he answered. He seemed to choose his words carefully.

"It's difficult. Not many of us have the restraint necessary to accomplish it. But Carlisle has always been the most compassionate of us that I've ever met." He paused. "For me, it was very, very painful."

I could tell from the set of his lips, he would say no more on the process. I suppressed my curiosity, hoping he would later explain it more fully to me. There were many aspects of this issue I needed to think through, things that were beginning to occur to me. I pushed the thoughts away, it wasn't a good time to wonder about how all this information might apply to our relationship.

His soft voice interrupted my thoughts. "He acted because of my mother. She begged him to save me, any way he could. When I was a human, I was already good at reading people. I wonder now if perhaps she had the same skill, maybe she knew that he had some extra ability to help me. Since I never knew my father, my mother was the whole world to me. Carlisle knew that if he saved me, if I went missing… no one else would notice. I was and am the youngest in the family."

"Did Carlisle turn all of you?" I asked.

"No," Edward shook his head. "No, Esme turned Carlisle. He'd received a certainly fatal head injury, she changed him to save him. He did the same when he found Jasper. He'd been badly burned. Jasper found Emmett after his bear attack and turned him. Rosalie and Alice were both turned by others, they found us afterward."

"So… you must be dying, then, to become…?" We avoided the word, and I couldn't frame it now.

"No." He said. "That's just our family. Esme wasn't dying when she was turned. Neither was Alice, from what we know."

"What you know?" I asked. I suddenly noticed that our voices had dropped of their own accord, barely louder than whispers.

"Alice doesn't remember anything of her human life. Her memories don't begin until after she had been turned, and it seems she had been turned for some time already."

I blinked, not understanding. "How is that possible?"

"We don't know." Edward said, smiling slightly. "I think you'll find that in spite of Carlisle's centuries of research, we know very little about what we are."

"Can you all read minds?" I asked softly.

"No," he said. "No, I'm the only one. In our family, anyway. Maybe there are others in the world. Special abilities are very rare."

"So you're the only one in your family with an extra power?"

"No, actually. Alice and Jasper both have abilities, too. Alice has visions."

"Visions?" I repeated.

"Premonitions, I mean. They don't always come true, though. Especially when they relate to us specifically, it is easy for us to prevent anything unfortunate. The future isn't set in stone. Things change." His jaw set when he said that, and his eyes darted to my face and away so quickly that I wasn't sure it had actually happened.

"Did she have any about me?" I asked quietly.

"No. She can't see you. She tried." He said. "She had some about me, though, that related to you. So far I have managed to avoid them."

"She can't see me?" I asked, shocked.

"The same as I can't hear you." He nodded.

There was a long pause as I processed that. "What – " my voice caught, and I cleared my throat. "What can Jasper do?"

"Jasper is an interesting case. His ability is perhaps the most useful, while also the most dubious. From what I've come to understand, he was charismatic and driven in his mortal life. He had the ability to make decisions for a group and influence those around him to see things his way. Now he is able to manipulate the emotions of those around him directly. He can calm a room of angry people, or excite a lethargic crowd." Edward explained.

"So he can control people?" I asked.

"Not exactly. He can't make people do anything specific, but he can change the way they feel in his presence. It's hard for him, he feels it is wrong, but it is also frequently necessary for the safety of our family." Edward explained.

"He didn't use it at the beach." I pointed out.

"He used it afterward," Edward clarified. "The next day… the next week, really."

"Why wouldn't he just…" I tried to make sense of it.

"Because the effect isn't permanent, Bella." Edward said sharply. "If you saw something like – like what happened at the beach – and you _didn't care_? If, an hour later, you realized the gravity of what you had seen? Wouldn't it strike you as completely unnatural that you weren't alarmed by it while it was actually happening?"

I thought about it, biting my lip. Edward's hand pulled away from mine, and I looked back toward him, worried I had made him angry.

"They knew when they came to get me that the confrontation would be seen for what it was. That's how it has to be. It was just… another time that I endangered them. I endangered the whole family."

"It wasn't your fault." I said.

"Yes, it was!" He said. "Bella. It was. Whatever else you think about my brothers, that fight was entirely my fault. I knew when I went to see you what it would mean for the family, and I knew what their reaction to it would be. I knew, and I did it anyway."

I took a breath. I could tell he felt bad about what had happened, and I felt guilty for causing the temptation to arise. Then, suddenly, the guilt seemed inappropriate.

"No, you know what?" I said, putting my hand on his arm. He looked at me, uncertain. "If they had any flexibility at all for you, you wouldn't have to break their rules."

"Bella…" he shook his head.

"I'm serious, Edward." I continued. "I know that you think I don't understand, but I'm starting to think you don't, either. They try to control you completely! They put rules down that make it impossible for you to have any relationships outside of your family. Meanwhile, they're all coupled off. How often do you actually feel like a priority to any of them? It's not fair. And you and I wouldn't know each other at all, if you followed all their rules. You shouldn't feel guilty for wanting something more from your life."

His eyes roamed over my face, before he finally gave a short laugh. "You are a bad influence, Bella Swan." He said.

I smiled. "Hey, someone's got to look out for you, right?"

"Then who's looking out for you?" He asked, serious.

"You are, I'm enlisting you." I said. "We'll each look out for each other."

"That may be unwise…" he said softly.

"On the contrary, I'm basing my decision on experience. You saved my life when the van crashed, you picked me up from the guys I hit with the pepper spray, and you've spent a lot of time with me alone without there ever being a problem." I said.

He gave me a self-effacing smile, and shrugged. "It's hard to argue with your logic," he said. "I must be pretty wonderful." He leaned forward, abruptly, and gave me a quick, chaste kiss. I felt the blush rise to my cheeks as he slid back into his seat. "I'd better go. Your dad's almost home."

And like that, Edward was gone. I sat in stunned silence for a moment, before headlights rounded the corner and my father pulled into the driveway.

...

I laid in my bed, my eyes scanning the darkness outside my bedroom window. The shadows of the trees played against the blue tint of the sky, still clear against all odds. The stars had begun to come out, and I remembered the conversation I'd had with Edward about the predictability of night, at least night in Forks. Today hadn't seemed predictable at all. I smiled to myself, somehow still energized even after such a long time.

My hand flew to my throat in surprise when, on my bedside table, my cellphone rang. I laughed at myself – why was I so jumpy? I picked up the phone and glanced at the number. I didn't recognize it.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Hey." It was Edward. My heart thrummed. I had just seen him a couple of hours ago, and I was still excited to hear his voice.

"Edward," I said. "I didn't know you had my number."

"I didn't. I called your friend Angela for it."

"You had Angela's number?" I was surprised, I was certain they'd never spent much time together.

"It was in the school directory," he said, and I could hear the hint of laughter in his voice.

"So… when you talk to someone on the phone, can you…?"

"No." Edward said, the amused tone still present. "I won't know what she thinks until Monday."

"If you were to break your rule and read her mind, you mean."

"Oh, of course." He said. "I'd never let my curiosity get the best of me. That would be wrong."

I laughed. "So…" I said. "What are you wearing?"

Edward laughed, then, and it sounded almost as lovely over the phone as it did in person. Almost. "What am I, a piece of meat?" He asked. "That information is between me and my sweatpants."

"Ooh, fancy." I said.

"Only the best for us, Alice makes certain of that."

"You did say that once before," I said. "Does she really dress you up?"

"Yep. Someone has to make sure we're presentable."

"Does she set out your next day's clothes for you?" I asked.

"No, she does it on the fly. She's an artist, Alice is. It's all about being in the moment." He chuckled.

"I had fun today." I said after a moment. Somehow it didn't seem to capture the reality of the day.

"Me too," he agreed. "I never imagined anything like this. I didn't believe I would ever find someone I wanted to be with… in another way than my family. And then to find that it's possible after all…"

"It would be hard to manage, with the whole mindreading thing, I guess."

"It's not that, even." He said. "I just. I didn't think I was strong enough. And now, while there's still that possibility that I might be… overcome… it doesn't seem so inevitable. I made up my mind that I was strong enough, that there was no possibility at all that I would – that I could _ever_ – harm you."

"So there's no possibility, now?"

"Mind over matter." He said lightly.

"It's that easy." I said, trying to be supportive.

"Easy for _you_!" He amended.

"Well, if it gets to be too much…" I said.

"If I ever just get up and leave, you'll know why." He said.

"It'll be easy to forgive you, if that happens."

"I'm glad." He said. There was a long pause. "So, you… I mean, I know there are other boys – normal, _human_ boys – that are interested. You're sure you wouldn't rather be with… I don't know, Tyler Crowley?"

"Tyler is wonderful." I said. I could almost imagine his face, guarded and expecting the worst. "But I don't feel about him the way I feel about you. I've never felt this way about anyone, before. I want to see where it leads. Where we lead."

I could hear his relieved sigh. "But how will you explain, if someone else asks you?" He wondered.

I couldn't stop a vague laugh from emerging. "I'll tell them you and I are, you know…"

"Going steady?" He asked.

I laughed in earnest. "I was going to say 'exclusive', but going steady works, too. If you're Danny Zuko."

"Danny Zuko?" His voice was clueless.

"Are you serious, Edward? Haven't you ever seen Grease?"

"Isn't that the movie with singing gangsters?"

"One of them." I said.

"There's more than one?" His tone of disbelief made me laugh again.

"Come on! West Side Story?"

"I can't believe there are two separate movies with singing gangsters." He said.

"They're both classics. You have to watch them." I said. "I can't believe you've had all these years of high school and you haven't seen either of them."

"I'm old and set in my ways!" He protested. "Never got used to the 'talkies'. The last film I saw in a theater was Dracula."

"You're not serious." I said.

"You're right, I'm not," he laughed loudly. "Actually, I saw King Kong after that. It was amazing."

"Amazing?"

"The part when the giant monkey climbs up the Empire State Building? You can't beat that."

"You are secretly ridiculous, aren't you?" I asked.

"Promise not to tell anyone." He said.

"Why'd you stop going to the movies?"

"It was too hard, being in such a confined place with so many other people."

"You know, Edward, they have these things now called DVDs. You and I are going to watch some movies together until you are properly educated. Monday night, you're coming over." I told him.

He laughed. "It's a date."


	14. Chapter 14: The Cullens

14. THE CULLENS

The next two weeks drifted in a dreamy haze. My friends noticed the difference in my behavior – even Mike was unable to miss my newfound enthusiasm for life. The day after our date (and the day after that), I'd sat with Edward at lunch. But although he could not read my mind, he seemed to realize I missed my friends. The rest of the days we sat at the table I'd grown accustomed to, with Mike, Tyler, Eric, Angela, and Jessica. They didn't say much to Edward and he didn't say much to them, but I could see the group getting used to his presence. It was wonderful.

After school, we'd go to my house. Edward had started buying movies to bring over and watch, since I didn't have a lot of extra money to spend on entertainment. We used that time to get to know each other better. Edward found he enjoyed dark comedies and dramas, though he didn't care for musicals or action films. I found that I was as willing to sit through some truly terrible old Westerns as he was to sit through the sci-fi and fantasy films I liked. We both enjoyed the romances, though I think most of that was the fact that they gave us more opportunities to kiss. We were getting better at it.

We fell quickly into a routine with each other, but it was still so new that I loved every minute of it. I was surprised, then, when he gave me an uneasy look one Monday morning when he picked me up for school.

"What's wrong?" I asked. I could see him framing his answer carefully before he spoke.

"What would you say to meeting my family today?"

I stared.

"Are you afraid?" He asked.

"Yes." I admitted. How could I deny it?

"They're warming up to the idea of us together, I promise." He said. "Esme asked me if I'd bring you for dinner." My face must have done something ridiculous, then, because his serious tone was interrupted by a shocked laugh. "Not like _that_!" He said. "Esme wants to prepare dinner for _you_. They want to meet you. I think part of it is that, as I recently discovered, they had taken bets on how long this would last and we've already beaten them all."

"They didn't bet you could last two whole weeks with a girlfriend?" I lifted my eyebrow.

"Ah, in a way." He looked away. "The bet wasn't so much about commitment as it was about my… self-control."

"Oh." I said. "Wow, who wouldn't want to meet them?"

He understood my tone. "I know, it's horrible. I'm sorry. But they're my family, and they've started to come around. I really want you to meet them. I promise I'll protect you." He gave me his best heroic face.

I nodded. "Okay." I said. He gave me a tentative smile, though the mood was still heavy. "I can't believe anyone would bet against Alice, though." I added. He laughed, and I could feel the tension draining away.

"I'm glad you're coming. Esme's been dying to meet you. You'll love her."

"You'll have to bring me home after school, though. I can't wear _this_ to meet your parents!" I gestured to my jeans and t-shirt.

"Why not?" He asked, looking genuinely surprised. I gave him a skeptical look.

"Never mind. We don't all have Alice to make us fashionable every day, most people have to put effort into that. This? Not effort."

He gave a low chuckle. "I'll bring you home first, then."

...

I sat nervously in his car, continually smoothing my long, khaki skirt. I didn't wear skirts often, and it made me feel somewhat uncomfortable, but Edward had complimented my choice to wear it with a dark blue blouse that I knew he liked. When I'd checked myself in the mirror, I'd been unhappy. Although under normal circumstances I would have felt attractive in the outfit, I knew what I was going to be faced with. Nothing could compare with the beauty of the people I was spending the evening with.

I realized, as we drove, that I had no idea where he lived. We passed over the bridge at the Calawah River, the road winding northward, the houses flashing past us growing farther apart, getting bigger. And then we were past the other houses altogether, driving through misty forest. I was trying to decide whether to ask or be patient, when he turned abruptly onto an unpaved road. It was unmarked, barely visible among the ferns. The forest encroached on both sides, leaving the road ahead only discernible for a few meters as it twisted, serpentlike, around the ancient trees.

And then, after a few miles, there was some thinning of the woods, and we were suddenly in a small meadow – or was it actually a lawn? The gloom of the forest didn't relent, though, as there were six primordial cedars that shaded an entire acre with their vast sweep of branches. They held their protecting shadow right up to the walls of a house that rose among them, making obsolete the deep porch that wrapped around the first story.

I don't know what I had expected, but it definitely wasn't this. The house was timeless, graceful, and probably a hundred years old. It was painted a soft, faded white, three stories tall, rectangular and well-proportioned. The windows and doors were either part of the original structure or a perfect restoration. I could hear the river close by, hidden in the obscurity of the forest.

"Wow."

"You like it?" He smiled.

"It… has a certain charm."

He smiled and gently tugged a strand of my hair that had fallen in front of my face. I could tell he wanted to tease me, but I got the feeling that he was as nervous as I was about the meeting. "Ready?" He finally asked.

"Not at all." I said. "Let's go."

He grinned. We got out of his car and I immediately smoothed my hands over my hair and clothing.

"You look beautiful." He took my hand easily, without thinking about it. We walked through the deep shade up to the porch. I knew he could feel my tension; his thumb rubbed soothing circles into the back of my hand.

He opened the door for me.

The inside was even more surprising, less predictable, than the exterior. It was very bright, very open, and very large. The entry must have originally been several rooms, but the walls had been removed from most of the first floor to create one wide space. The back, south-facing wall had been entirely replaced with glass, and, beyond the shade of the cedars, the lawn stretched bare to the wide river. A massive curving staircase dominated the west side of the room. The walls, the high-beamed ceiling, the wooden floors, and the thick carpets were all varying shades of white.

Waiting to greet us, standing just to the left of the door and to the right of a spectacular grand piano, on a raised portion of the floor were Edward's adoptive parents.

I'd seen Dr. Cullen before, of course, yet I couldn't help but be struck again by his youth, his outrageous beauty. At his side was Esme, I assumed, the only one of the family I'd never seen before. She had the same pale, beautiful features as the rest of them, but something about her was very different, too. The way she held herself, the look in her eyes… I knew, somehow, that she was much older than any of the vampires I had seen before. Hand-in-hand with that was a counter-intuitive reaction; something about her heart-shaped face, her billows of soft, caramel-colored hair, reminded me of the great beauties of the silent-movie era. She was very small – enough to make even Carlisle look tall – and slender, yet less angular than the others. They were both dressed casually, in light colors that matched the inside of the house. They smiled in welcome, but made no move to approach us. I realized they were making an effort not to frighten me.

"Carlisle, Esme," Edward's voice rang clearly in the open room. "This is Bella."

"Welcome, Bella." Carlisle's step was measured, careful as he approached me. He raised his hand gently, and I stepped forward to shake hands with him.

"It's nice to see you again, Dr. Cullen."

"Please, call me Carlisle."

"Carlisle." I grinned at him, my sudden confidence surprising me. I could feel Edward's relief at my side.

Esme smiled and stepped forward as well, reaching for my hand. She took it in both of hers, gently clasping my fingers. Her touch seemed somehow warmer than Carlisle or Edward's. "It is very nice to know you," she said. It sounded sincere, with a mild but foreign accent that I could not identify. Her voice had more of a musical quality to it than even Edward's.

"I'm glad to meet you, too." I said. "Edward has told me a little bit about you all, but it's not the same as actually meeting you." These were the two I had wanted to meet, moreso than spending time with Edward's siblings. He knew my feelings for them, after what I had seen, and I knew he regretted that in order for me to spend time with his parents I would also be exposed to his brothers.

"Where are Alice and Jasper?" Edward asked, but no one answered, as they had just appeared at the top of the wide staircase.

"Hey, Edward!" Alice called cheerfully. She ran down the stairs, a blur of black hair and white skin, coming to a sudden and graceful stop in front of me. Carlisle shot a warning glance at her, but I liked it. It felt more natural than the walking-on-eggshells that the others had done. "Hello, Bella!" Alice said, leaning in to kiss my cheek. I was shocked by it, but also pleased that she seemed to approve of me so entirely. It was hard to miss the staggered look that Carlisle had on his face, though. Esme, on the other hand, appeared to be unflappable.

"You do smell nice, I never noticed before," she said, to my mild embarrassment.

No one else seemed to know quite what to say, and then Jasper was there – tall and leonine. I gave him a wary look, remembering his behavior at the beach, but he stood stock still with a calm, blank expression. "Hello, Bella." Jasper said, his voice sweet and respectful, different from the harsh anger that had colored his words the last time I'd heard him speak.

Edward stared at Jasper, raising one eyebrow, and his brother returned the look. I felt a strange sensation hit me, then, an uneasy discomfort that made me bring my hand up to my head. It felt akin to the disquiet I'd had with the men in the alley heckling me, the feeling I had when the one had grabbed me the first time. I could not understand what had brought the odd anxiety on. Then I remembered what Jasper could supposedly do; I realized that the others were all watching me closely.

"I'm sorry," I said, not sure what I was apologizing for. "I just… had a strange feeling." My eyes darted to Jasper's face, suspicious. It looked as if he was trying to keep his face passive, but I could see a hint of shock in it.

"That is unusual," Esme said, though she seemed much less bothered by it than the others. She walked over and laid her fingers gently on Jasper's shoulder. "This perhaps demonstrates the impoliteness of using your ability on strangers, Jasper."

He frowned and stepped away from me, and I dropped my gaze to the floor, confused. Edward's hand squeezed mine gently, and I felt reassured. It was then that Emmett appeared, hands in his pockets. Even in the large, open room he looked enormous. He took a few steps toward me and rocked on his feet.

"So. Rosalie isn't ready, yet." He said. He had an unmistakable Tennessee twang to his speech. I saw a strange expression pass between Edward and Emmett, but it ended before I could identify what they were communicating. "I got tired of waiting outside the bathroom, so. Here I am. Nice to meet you officially, Bella." He smiled at me, revealing deep dimples in his cheeks. Something about it didn't seem entirely honest, however.

"Nice to meet you, too." I said.

"No need to lie!" Emmett said cheerfully. "I know you saw Jasper'n me and it… wasn't our best moment."

Carlisle and Edward both stared sharply at Emmett.

"What?" He said incredulously. "You don't think she forgot that, do you? Let's face it, this is a _second_ impression, brother. I don't see how ignoring it is polite, we all know it happened!"

Jasper folded his arms sullenly.

"Let me translate Jasper's complete silence: we're sorry, Bella." Emmett gestured dramatically with his hand. I shifted on my feet, but it was hard not to be charmed by his frankness.

"It's okay." I said after a moment. "I'm over it."

Emmett grinned. "There! Fixed. You're welcome, Jasper." He walked into the next room and slumped onto a long, sleek leather sofa. Jasper followed, giving his brother a deadly glare in the other room. Alice winked at me and went after the boys.

"I will have to check the pasta," Esme said gently, and turned. Carlisle stood for a moment, before shrugging and looking in his wife's direction.

"I'll… go see if she needs help." He said.

Edward chuckled and looked at me apologetically. "I guess they want to give us some privacy." He said. He ambled over to the piano and sat on the bench, looking up at me.

"What do you think, so far?" He asked, looking genuinely curious.

"So far? You mean the introductions?" I smiled.

He gave me a firm look. "Now, that was more than just introductions, Bella."

"You're right, of course. We could make a whole screenplay about the last five minutes of our lives."

"It's sure to be better than Grease." He said, his eyebrows arching. I pulled a face at him. He hadn't found the film to be as charming as I had, and had made no secret of it.

"I was surprised by what Emmett said." I said, changing the tone.

"Emmett says what he means." He shrugged, though the smile remained on his face. "He has little tolerance for pretense. Jasper, on the other hand, is all about politeness and gentlemanly behavior. Their personal philosophies sometimes clash."

"You seemed to have a strange moment, when he said that thing about Rosalie…" I said. His face went serious again.

"She'll come around." He said, his eyes wide and persuasive.

"What is it about me that upsets her?" I asked. "I don't think I've ever spoken to her, even."

"Aside from your friends talking about her backside, you mean." He grinned. At my expression, he continued. "Emmett enjoyed that interaction a bit more than she did. He thought it was funny. She thought it was…"

"Offensive?" I suggested. "I'm sure she's heard worse from boys who weren't in the presence of girls, though. I mean, if Mike could say that kind of thing with his own girlfriend sitting there, I don't even want to know what he talks about with his guy friends."

"She was put off, I can say. But that's not the problem, really. Nothing you've done or said. Rosalie struggles the most with… what we are. It's hard for her to have someone on the outside know the truth. And she's a little jealous, I think."

"_Rosalie_ is jealous of _me_?" I asked incredulously. I tried to imagine a universe in which someone as breathtaking as Rosalie would have any possible reason to feel jealousy toward someone like me.

"You're human." He said flatly. "She wishes that she were, too."

"Oh." I muttered, still stunned.

"You're not the average human, though." Edward said curiously. "You sensed Jasper's gift."

I blinked, realizing what he was talking about. I was still shocked at the idea of Rosalie being jealous, but I was grateful to change topics. "Yeah…" I said. "Yeah, it was like… I don't know how to describe it. It felt like when a stranger touches you without permission. Somehow I think that Stranger Danger violation wasn't the emotion he was going for."

Edward still looked curious, though he also seemed a bit amazed. "Huh." He said. "I'm sure that wasn't what he was attempting."

"It can't be that strange, though." I said. "I mean, surely you've met someone before who could deflect those things?"

"Never." Edward said seriously. "Not ever, not once. Even Esme thought it was unusual that I couldn't hear your thoughts, and when we discovered Alice couldn't see you… and now with Jasper? This is unprecedented. I know that our family is only a small percentage of the… _our_ world, but the experience held here is vast. Three of us have abilities, and none of us have ever experienced an exception in the hundreds of thousands of humans we have collectively come across. You are unique."

I didn't know what to say. "I don't understand how that can be," I said finally.

"I don't either." He grinned. "But it makes 'fate' seem a little less far-fetched, doesn't it?" He hooked his little finger through mine, looking up at me in appreciation. He swallowed reflexively, and I wondered if he had something more to say.

"Are you alright, Edward?" I asked gently.

"I wanted you to know… Alice, she had a vision." He looked down, and I took his hand more fully as an encouragement to continue. "She saw some visitors coming soon. They know we're here, and they're curious. Without us knowing any more about them, we can't change this."

"Visitors…"

"They aren't like us, in their hunting habits. They probably won't come into town, but there is the possibility that they will seek me out along with the rest of my family. I want you to know that, if there are more indications of them, I might be somewhat protective over you. Average human you are not, but you're human enough for them. I couldn't bear to see anything happen to you on my account."

I shivered.

"Finally, a rational response!" He murmured. "I was beginning to think you had no sense of self-preservation at all!"

I pushed against his shoulder, pouting. "Don't pretend you're anything but a kitten, Edward Cullen. You talk a big game, but I know better."

I heard a choked laugh from the living room. I turned to see Emmett looking more innocent than necessary. I should have realized that they could hear us, but I was suddenly embarrassed that I had been speaking to him as if we were alone. Somehow, being in his home, which was so open and in which his family behaved so much more naturally than elsewhere, I had forgotten to be aware. I'd forgotten their supernatural senses.

Edward sent an unimpressed look toward the living room, before lifting his eyebrows at me. "Never mind him," he said with a smirk. "You'll notice he's sitting on that sofa by himself. His relationship is not one I plan to emulate."

"You're not embarrassed?" I asked skeptically.

"Embarrassed that you're not afraid of me?" He asked with a hint of laugh. "No. I never expected it was even possible, I can't imagine being upset by it. You have the distinction of being apparently unaffected by our natural manipulations. Besides, who's he going to tell?"

I smiled, then looked away. My eyes wandered again around the spacious room.

He followed my gaze. "Not what you expected, is it?" he asked.

"No," I admitted.

"No coffins, no bats, no spiders or cobwebs…" he teased.

"It's so light… so open."

"We don't have to hide, here." He said. I wasn't sure what to say to that. It seemed sad, to have only one place where he could be himself without running into the middle of the woods. "Do you want to see the rest of the house?"

"No coffins?" I said, smiling again.

"No coffins." He promised.

We walked up the massive staircase, my hand trailing along the satin-smooth rail. The long hall at the top of the stairs was paneled with a honey-colored wood, the same as the floorboards. We entered a hallway, the doors all closed. He walked me down it, listing information as we went.

"Rosalie and Emmett's room… Carlisle's office… Alice's workroom – she does fashion drawings and makes clothes there…" He gestured as he led me along.

He would have continued, but I stopped dead at the middle of the hall, staring incredulously at the ornament hanging on the wall above my head. Edward followed my gaze and chuckled at my bewildered reaction.

"You can laugh," he said. "It _is_ sort of ironic."

I didn't laugh. My hand raised automatically, one finger extended as if to touch the large wooden cross, its dark patina contrasting with the lighter tone of the wall. I didn't touch it, though I was curious if the aged wood would feel as silky as it looked.

"It must be very old." I said.

He shrugged. "Early sixteen-thirties, more or less." I looked at him, surprised. "It belonged to Carlisle's father."

"He… collected antiques?" I suggested, though my doubt was evident.

"His father carved it himself. It hung on the wall above the pulpit in the vicarage where he preached."

I experienced a strangely dull wave of shock, but returned to gazing at the simple cross. I quickly did the mental math; the cross was over three hundred and eighty years old. The silence stretched on as I attempted to reconcile the idea of the youthful man downstairs and the sheer number of years he had been around.

"Are you all right?" He sounded worried.

"How old is Carlisle?" I asked quietly, ignoring his question, still staring up.

"He was born in 1643," Edward said. "He just celebrated his three hundred and sixty-second birthday." I looked back at him, a million questions in my eyes.

"Carlisle was born near London, in the sixteen-forties. Just before Cromwell's rule. He was the only son of an Anglican pastor, his mother died in childbirth. His father was something of a cult leader, really. He was highly intolerant, he believed anyone that disagreed with his beliefs – religious, political, ethical, whatever – was tainted by the devil. He believed very strongly in the reality of evil. He focused his efforts on werewolves. I'm sure you've heard of the Salem witch trials, well… there was something similar in Europe, but their victims were supposedly werewolves. This was his father's passion. He and his congregation killed a lot of innocent people. The real creatures he sought were not so easy to catch."

I gave Edward a shocked look. Not only vampires, but werewolves? Werewolves were real? I thought immediately of Jacob Black. Could his story have been true, about the Quileutes? No. Jacob hadn't believed it himself. I was sure he'd remember if he'd ever seen someone transform into a wolf.

"Carlisle was only six years old when his father started leading the hunts. They focused on London, believing the street urchins were damned and attracting sin. They were determined to cleanse the unholy places that London held. Carlisle himself wasn't allowed to come on the raids until he was fourteen, but by that time he was well indoctrinated. His whole life he had been taught the signs of possession and the marks that evil left on mortals. In a way, he learned it better than the people teaching him. He began to see his father persecuting those who didn't deserve it, he began to see his father as a man rather than a savior. At first he did not protest – he thought he would be seen as a coward, or someone with weak principles. So he helped. He still won't talk about the things he did then… at least, not to me. He continues to be haunted by the people he damaged in his mortal life."

I took in a deep breath. Whatever horrors Carlisle had done, I couldn't know. But it was hard not to feel sympathy for the child raised with hatred in his heart, taught to believe that there was no other way.

"Roland – Carlisle's father – died of a sudden infection when Carlisle was 23. He was left as the leader of a dying movement, divided by ideological differences. Carlisle didn't have the easy resolve his father had, and he didn't have the natural leadership that could bring together a scattered parish. He tried to bring them back together, but it was futile. By the time he was 24, he was desperate. He organized one last hunt. This time, his cleverness wasn't a boon. They tracked down a true clan of werewolves, and discovered themselves completely unequipped for the fight ahead of them. These creatures were truly supernatural, and when threatened they transformed into beasts, as if it were involuntary. Carlisle has told the story only a few times. He breaks down whenever he discusses it. He says that the people he took with him seemed to understand the situation all at once, and to realize in the same moment that the people they had tortured and killed in the past had _not_ been werewolves. Not even close. He was badly injured in that fight. One of the wolves struck him with a hammer.

"He would have died from it, but Esme changed him. She had watched him save two children some months before, you see. Their family had been suspected, and the church was hunting them down. He'd caught up with the kids, but instead of taking them back to his father, he had released them and they had escaped. She'd followed him ever since. So when she saw that he would die, she chose to change him instead."

"Children?" I asked.

"No older than eight years old, Esme told me." He said. "Carlisle couldn't bear the thought of them being questioned… not the way he knew questionings went. His father's group had been following the family up a hill, and he'd taken a shortcut. There was an area of loose rock, I guess, something only a very agile person could cross. He'd found them there. It was easy for him to let them go, knowing that none of his father's men could intercept them."

"After Carlisle was turned…" I said. "What happened to the church?"

Edward blinked at me, surprised. "I have no idea." He said. "I imagine they disbanded. Every member of the raid was killed that night, when they found the true werewolves. Carlisle was the only exception, and not one the congregation would have known about. I am sure the survivors would have gone to other churches, abandoned the cause."

He must have seen the confusion in my expression, though I tried hard not to show it. He took my hand, smiling gently at me. He pulled, guiding me down the hall again. "Come on," he said. "I'll show you the rest."


	15. Chapter 15: Esme

15. ESME

We continued down the hallway, before coming to the room adjacent to the stairway to the third story. Edward pushed the door open, and I stepped into the darkness inside. He closed the door behind us, and I heard the sound of him moving toward the wall. He pulled a tasseled rope and two heavy curtains parted from the wide, glass windows of the room. Light flooded in, and I looked around. Several other curtains were still closed in what was perhaps the simplest room I had seen in the house.

There was a large, square fur rug on the floor. The fur was brown and grey, but I couldn't identify what animal it had come from. A large stone fireplace sat against one side of the room, with charred logs still visible behind the glass guard. A three-level shelf was seated on the opposite wall, long, dark wooden boards held up by polished stone blocks. A sculpted stone stool was placed near the window, and a broad wooden bench sat next to it, cushioned with fur.

On the shelves were dozens of carved stone figurines, aged ink drawings, woodcuts, and on the bottom shelf, photographs and a handful of books. Something akin to a desk sat, looking out-of-place, against the last free wall. It was littered with old books and piles of papers and, to my amused surprise, an abacus. Several large candles sat, melted against the surface of the desk.

Next to the desk was a large wooden chest with a lock on the latch. I wondered what was inside it.

"This is Esme's private room. She usually retires with Carlisle in their shared bedroom, but this is where she goes when she wants some alone time."

"It looks like something out of the Stone Age." I said softly.

"I think we all have the inclination to match our private rooms to the time we grew up in. To make it feel more like home…" he said, his tone wistful. "Esme is the oldest of us. One of the oldest vampires in existence, truly. She's almost four and a half thousand years old."

I looked at him. Although Edward had mentioned Esme's tremendous age before, being in this place only reinforced the awe I felt at the idea that she had really been alive that long. His face displayed distinct respect, perhaps even some awe of his own.

"She was born in Wales. Prehistoric Wales, though she doesn't like that term. She always says that history does not confine itself to what is written down." He gave me a vague smile. "She's the most amazing person I have ever known. Her people – they built _Stonehenge_. She was alive at the same time that the Egyptian pyramids were being built. She was alive when Jesus was… when _Moses_ was. Can you even imagine..?"

I couldn't. His enthusiasm, though, was infectious. I wanted to hear everything he had to say about Esme and her life.

"She always translates things… instead of telling me what her nation called itself, she just says it was the Sunrise Nation. They were semi-nomadic. They traveled between Wales and England, it was kind of a pilgrim thing. They built monuments on their sacred lands, but Stonehenge is one of the only ones that remain. She still visits it, every spring equinox. I gather it was their most important holiday, extremely spiritual. Every year, a different clan would carry a new stone to the sacred grounds. I'm sure you've seen photos of Stonehenge, but it's hard to truly appreciate how massive the stones really were unless you visit it personally. Trying to wrap your head around carrying such a huge piece of stone from Wales to England is almost impossible, now. But that's what they did. Once the stones were erected, they became a place of reverence. They were for the ancestors."

He picked up a carving from Esme's shelf; it looked like bone that had been shaped to look like an elk with large antlers. He turned it over in his hand, admiring the detail of it. "They had to deliver the stone undamaged." He said. "It was very important to them. If the stone was damaged, or some other problem befell them, the ancestors could have to wait up to twenty years before they could find peace and provide blessings for their clan. The spring equinox was also the peak of the marriage season, since the clans all traveled to the sacred grounds at that time. The largest permanent settlement of their culture surrounded the sacred grounds, and they provided hospitality to all of their peoples. Esme was married there."

"Before Carlisle?" I asked, blinking.

"Oh, yes." He said. He seemed surprised I should ask. "Carlisle wasn't even born for another four thousand years. She had no reason to believe she would have to wait so long! And at the time, it was not so much about love… the families approved the match, and they were attracted to each other. That's all they really required. She was called Esyllt then… she was the youngest of five. She had two brothers and two sisters. One of the sisters was disfigured in the jaw, though, and the other had mental deficiencies. She was the only daughter that was considered a valuable match."

"That's harsh." I said, without thinking.

He nodded. "I suppose, when survival was still such an issue, mental or physical problems were more harshly viewed." He said, but quickly moved on. "When she was 13, she married a boy named Drystan, he was 16. She has described him for us many times… she says his beard was still soft but he had the body of a man," he gave me a vaguely embarrassed look. "She says he was very handsome, with green eyes. Her sister told her it was bad luck to marry a man with such dark hair, but Esme thinks she just didn't want her to move away. The match was strong. She says that all the women told her that she was at the peak of her fertile times, and that they should work hard to make children while they were in their early years. She was pregnant by the end of the festival. A daughter."

I listened with rapt attention. Somehow, Esme's story was more interesting even than Carlisle's. I knew that there were probably anthropologists out there that would give their left arm to hear what I was hearing.

"The custom at the time was for the woman to move and live with the family of the man. She went to stay with his clan, and had their first child. Unfortunately, things did not remain easy. They had a second daughter who died after sixteen months. Then they had a son who was stillborn. Both were cremated, as was the custom. They believed the ritual fire released the spirit from the flesh so that it could join the ancestors when the next stone was placed.

"When Esme was 26, her husband's clan was chosen to carry the next stone. During this trip, one of the clan's parties was abducted by the wild people of the woods. Esme was one of the people taken, to be mated to the wild men without even a marriage. But her clan came after them, and they killed their abductors. Esme knew when they came that something was wrong. Drystan should have come with the other warriors, he should have been the one to kill the man that had taken her. But he wasn't there. When they got back, she discovered that he had been in an accident. While pulling the stone, a tether had snapped. It had crushed his legs and ribcage. Even now, such an injury would likely be lethal, but at that time there was no saving him. He survived an hour before the clan leader put him out of his suffering."

"That's horrible." I said. I didn't know what else to say, how to describe the feeling I had at hearing the story. I could not imagine experiencing such a brutal thing.

"It is," he said. "She fled, in despair. She went into the wild lands, thinking it would be better to be retaken by the wild people than to see Drystan's body. She thought she would be captured again, but she wasn't. Instead, she met Aspasia. She was a vampire who haunted those woods, and punished travelers who didn't show the proper caution. Esme came to love her like a sister. She fled from her only once, when her daughter turned 14. She went to the spring equinox celebration to see her child married. At that point, Esme felt her mortal life was over. She asked to become what Aspasia was, and Aspasia granted that wish. They lived there together, for almost fifteen hundred years. They moved short distances to rebuild their home when it became necessary, but they were always together. Even now, Esme refers to Aspasia as her sister. Aspasia taught her the rules she governed herself by – at that time, people in the area were far more scarce than they are now. They could not feed from every person that happened by. In that way, Esme learned her own way of resisting. They killed only those that did not respect their domain; poachers, rapists, abductors."

I stood and walked to the shelves, looking at the figurines. They were mostly in the shape of animals, but there were a number that depicted different types of people. A pregnant woman, a child, a man with some kind of spear. Next to the figurines was a collection of perhaps thirty small glass jars, each sealed with a lock of hair inside. It was clear that the hair was from as many different people, and I wondered who on earth the hair could belong to.

"But the people in the area increased. The more people around, the more people to notice. In those days there were many types of walking dead. Most of the vampires then were mindless. Slow, stupid creatures that didn't move until even weeks after death, and more often than not followed the scent of their own people back to their camps and killed them while they slept. It made it easy for people to find ways to deter them. They began to weight the bodies in the coffins; nailing them down or sinking them in water. Esme still thinks it was silliness… her own people had cremated their dead to release their spirits, and in doing so prevented the possibility of the dead rising. Fire is a true vulnerability to our kind. But there was a good side… travelers became over-confident in their ability to defeat death, and Esme and her sister exacted countless justices on the wayward in those days."

"They killed people." I said.

"They killed bad people." Edward amended. It wasn't as easy for me to forgive murder as it was for him, but I could see the distinction, even so. "One night, a village boy snuck into their valley. There had been rumors for decades, of course, of the devils that lived there and how they would punish trespassers. He wanted to prove his valor and bravery. He set fire to their home, which was built of reeds. Esme escaped, but Aspasia died in the fire, burnt to ash. Esme killed the boy before he ever returned home. She never even discovered his name."

There was a long silence between us. A young boy was not a bad person, even if he had set fire to the home. He hadn't known what he was doing. Had he?

"After the loss of her sister, Esme traveled to England. She settled eventually in Kent, feeding as Aspasia had taught her. She subsisted primarily on animals, but she also fed from humans. Highwaymen and robbers that tried to assault her, a lone woman on the road. Eventually she settled in the country between Canterbury and London, posing as a traveling mystic. That's when she changed her name to Esme. And she stayed there, moving to a different village every ten years, until she witnessed Carlisle saving those children, and then changed him. After that, they traveled together."

We paused for another long moment, and I moved back to the bench, sitting. It was surprisingly comfortable, in spite of its lack of cushions. Edward sat next to me, scanning my face for signs of my reaction.

"You said that Carlisle hated Esme for changing him…" I said.

"He did, for many years." Edward said immediately. "I told you of his family. He was – and still is– very religious. The idea of becoming a vampire was repugnant to him. He could not come to terms with it, at first. But he had no other companion, no other creature he could speak to or interact with, without experiencing the mania – the _frenzy_. And, eventually… just as we all do… he recognized that he had no further knowledge of God or Satan as he had when he was a man. He could not convince himself he was a damned when he had no contact or instruction from the devil, when he had not chosen what he had become. He began to see things differently. He forgave Esme, because after so long he understood the need for a confidante, and they fell in love. He was even able to accept her beliefs, which are far more Celtic than Christian. You should hear them debate over what passages in the Bible mean. Together they chose to abstain from human blood entirely. For every one of us that they have taken into their home, they have shared their respective beliefs and taught us to control our thirst. Regardless of how different their faiths might be, they are the same in the value of resisting temptation in favor of the purity of life."

I thought for a moment, before my eyebrows drew together. "But life _isn't_ pure." I said.

"It is in retrospect." He said, looking at me darkly. "Don't get me wrong, Bella, I understand what you are saying: life is messy, it is complicated. It's driven by feelings that are selfish. But the life of a vampire is that much more. Take an average person and give him an unquenchable thirst for human blood? People quickly forget all the significance of mortality. It is hard to describe how easy it is to rationalize your actions, when you are given yet another unseemly desire, one far more powerful than anything you have ever experienced. Suddenly lust, wrath, envy, and all the rest seem innocent."

I frowned, working things over in my head. "Have you always stayed with Carlisle and Esme?" I asked.

"Almost always." He stood, opening the door from Esme's study, and walked into the hallway. Bewildered, I followed him.

"Almost?" I asked, shocked at his reaction to the question.

He sighed, seeming reluctant to answer. "My… transformation was difficult. I told you it took me twelve days, four times longer than a healthy person would require. When I was alert and understood what had happened, I was overwhelmed with rage at what Carlisle had done to me. I fought with him all the time. I blamed him for my mother's death – I thought…" he hesitated, and I could tell that even speaking of it was difficult. "Sometimes I still think… he should have saved her, instead. I couldn't understand why he had let her die, why he would save _me_. I was nothing, nobody. She was everything to me! She was the only person in my life that mattered. I became resentful that Carlisle had saved me instead. She was alive when she asked him to save me, he could have turned her instead of me. Or he could have turned us both. But he didn't. He chose me. I was so angry, I thought he was selfish. His rules seemed controlling to me. And, I have to admit, I thought he had a God complex. Who was he to decide who lived and who died?"

His voice had risen with anger, and I found myself listening raptly in spite of it. Somehow, in the last few weeks, I had lost all fear of Edward and any fury he could show me. Instead of being afraid, as I probably should have been, my heart ached for him. What would I have felt, if I had been chosen to live instead of my mother or father?

"It finally came to a head, and I fought with him again, openly blaming him for everything. It seemed terribly unfair. I had died without ever getting the chance to do something with my life, and he had trapped me there forever, in that state where all I might experience is what I _could_ become. After a few months, I ran away. It was at this point I discovered my gift. Before then, Carlisle had confined me to the house – the old house, in Naperville – which left me only the others to read from. Vampires are harder to read, as I've told you. If I am honest, Emmett is the only one I can read with total clarity. When I went out, though… I couldn't find any way to control or suppress it at all. I read everyone's mind when I was in range. It was at this time that I discovered the dark nature of so many humans… I suppose in reality, most people are good. But the darkness of humanity is unforgettable. The things that go on in people's minds, even those that never act upon them, they disgusted me. When people thought of rape or murder without regret – or worse, with pleasure – I could not prevent the inevitable. I fed from them. A lot of them."

He was silent for a long time, and I laced my hand through his again, leaning my head on his shoulder. His tense stature softened.

"I… I couldn't forgive myself. Even with what I knew, it was impossible. I couldn't divide the people I had killed from the ones I hadn't. So much of the action is linked to your own emotional life, you cannot understand. I hope you never have to. No matter how vile the victim, how sweet the blood on my lips, I couldn't forget the faces of those I had killed. I couldn't forgive myself for becoming what I despised. I was blinded by hatred, by what I'd seen in my own victims. When the heat of violence faded, and I realized what I had done? I could see that I was losing my grip on morality. I didn't want to become some self-righteous vigilante who had delusions of being superior to those I murdered. I came back to Carlisle. And my family forgave me. In the face of everything I had done, every one of them forgave me."

I turned and kissed his jaw, wanting to give him the reassurance and security that I knew he needed. He turned toward me, moving into my affections. I let my head rest against his cheek, breathing in the scent of him as he held me. We stood there in the hall for a moment, comforting one another.

"It doesn't repulse you?" He asked then, his voice tight.

"No." I said. "I forgive you."

He breathed heavily for a few minutes. "You give me too much credit," he said at last, his words shaking.

"You don't give yourself enough." I responded.


	16. Chapter 16: Edward Masen

16. EDWARD MASEN

He guided me to continue walking. We arrived at the end of the hall, and he placed his hand on the door there. "My room," he informed me, opening it and pulling me through.

His room faced south, with a wall-sized window like the great room below. His view looked down on the winding Sol Duc River, across the untouched forest to the Olympic Mountain range. The mountains were much closer than I would have believed.

The western wall was covered with shelf after shelf of records. The bottom two shelves contained CDs, and altogether it looked better stocked than a music store. There was a sophisticated-looking sound system in the southwest corner, with a turntable and a CD player. Next to it stood something I had only seen in movies: a tall, wooden phonograph with a crank on the side and cabinet doors in the front. Between the music equipment and the door stood a massive wooden wardrobe with a narrow mirror on the face.

There was no bed, only a wide and inviting burgundy-colored velvet sofa. There was a polished Edwardian desk against the east wall next to the door, with a blue upholstered wing chair in front. A bookshelf stood next to it, packed with volumes of fiction, non-fiction, and a number of books so old that the covers were flaking off. On the top of the bookshelf were at least a dozen small, colorful cases on stands that held them upright.

"What are these?" I asked curiously, taking one to examine it. It appeared to be gold-plated, with an engraving of a heron surrounded by reeds.

"Cigarette cases," Edward said. "I used to collect them, when I was a young man. That one's my favorite, actually. I found it in a bar, it was wedged in the back of a booth seat. Whoever lost it must have been quite unhappy."

"But you weren't old enough to drink," I said.

Edward gave me a surprised smile. "The drinking age came around after prohibition." He said.

It was strange to hear Edward talk about himself. His face was often guarded, as though it were inappropriate somehow for him to discuss his human life. I replaced the cigarette case to the top of his bookshelf, and turned to look at the desk. There were a handful of metal soldier figurines set up against the corner, next to a pencil sharpener. They had once been painted, but most of the color had been worn away.

"My mother gave me those for my birthday when I was seven," he said. As he continued to speak, his wary look faded. "They're made of lead. I painted them to look like Revolutionary war soldiers. I used to have a whole lot of them, but those are all that's left."

"You lost the others?" I asked.

"I was seven. Any number of terrible fates befell them," he smiled. "I still have most of my dime novels, though."

He pointed to the bookshelf, and I saw a row of tattered volumes framed by several other knickknacks. Between a section of books and the rest of the shelf sat a ceramic sculpture of a black, seated pig that had been painted with excruciating detail. I kneeled to look closer. I realized it was an antique piggy bank, with a few chips in the pointed ears and the tip of the nose. I resisted the urge to pick it up and instead looked at the books Edward had pointed out.

"Old Sleuth, Brave and Bold… Diamond Dick?"

"Dashing Diamond Dick," Edward corrected. "He was a valiant gunslinger who wore a diamond studded vest."

"A diamond vest?" I asked skeptically, trying to hold back my smile.

"In the early ones, anyway." He said. He turned toward his music shelf, and I followed him over to see what he had.

He pulled a record from the very end, turning it so that I could see. "This is the first record I ever owned. My mother bought it for me when I was fourteen."

He held it delicately as I examined it. I was afraid to touch – it looked so old – but I was fascinated by the details. The sleeve was aged brown, with fading print on it. The record itself had a gold print of a dog listening to a gramophone, with the word 'VICTOR' beneath it.

"I Didn't Raise My Boy to Be a Soldier," I read.

"It was an anti-war song," he said. "She knew I wanted to join the army, this was her not-so-subtle way of getting her point across for the hundredth time."

"You wanted to join the army?" I asked. He'd never mentioned that to me before.

"It was World War I. I thought it was something important that I could be a part of, to prove myself."

"Prove what?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "That I could do the right thing, I guess." He pulled another record from the shelf. "I bought this one for her two years later."

"Over There," I read the title.

"It's kind of the opposite of the one she got for me. You'd recognize some of the lines, probably. 'Johnny get your gun', and on. After my mother died and Carlisle turned me, he took me to our home to get my belongings. I took this from her things."

I didn't know what to say. It was hard to understand how he must feel about what had happened to him. While I had been shocked at the idea that Esme suggested Edward change me without permission, I was starting to realize that none of the people in the Cullen family had chosen to be changed. Except, perhaps, for Esme herself. The others had been saved from death without waiting for consent.

Edward's feelings about his mother were clear. The fact that he had kept of so many things from his human life was heartbreaking, but it was also encouraging. It showed that his emotions and sentimentality were still essentially human.

He put his records back on the shelf, and moved toward the center of the pile. "Here, you'll like this one." He said. "Don't look," he warned, smiling. He put it on the record player, and I heard the soft hiss as the record began to spin. I immediately recognized the voice.

"Cab Calloway," I said. He gave me a surprised look. "When I was ten or eleven, my grandmother bought a Cab Calloway CD set for my mother. She didn't really like it, but I listened to it all the time. He's one of the first musicians I ever really liked."

Edward grinned broadly at me, his face breathtakingly perfect in his happiness. "He's great, isn't he?" He said, excitedly. "So much energy!"

I laughed. "It's amazing to see you like this," I said.

"Like what?" He asked.

"In your element," I said. "It's like when we went on the hike… you're just, I don't know… yourself."

He seemed suddenly embarrassed, but he kept talking. "I thought I'd feel… relieved, having you see my room and getting everything in the open. I didn't expect to feel so happy about it." He said. "Want to see something else?"

"Absolutely," I responded. He walked to the wardrobe and pulled the doors open. For a moment, I saw a dark wall of clothing hanging inside, before he grabbed something from the bottom and closed it again. He walked to the couch and sat down, laying a heavy-looking wooden chest next to him on the cushion. I walked over and sat on the other side of the battered box, watching with interest.

The wood was dark, but it was so heavily scuffed that it had clearly been through many years of use. On the top was large, blocky lettering that read 'ELIZABETH MASEN'.

"Elizabeth Masen?" I asked.

"My mother's name," Edward said absently, unclasping the lid and opening the chest. I peered inside. He pulled out a yellow tin box with a handle. The word 'WINNER' was printed at the top, and beneath the handle, 'CUT PLUG, SMOKE AND CHEW'.

"What is that?" I asked.

"It's a tobacco tin," Edward said, and seeing my curiosity, he held the tin up so that I could see it. The side had an illustration of three old-styled cars racing down a path with spectators cheering. In the bottom right corner, the brand name 'WINNER' was printed again. "This is what I used to carry my lunch to school when I was a child."

"You used a _tobacco_ box?" I asked. "Isn't that a little child-unfriendly?"

Edward laughed. "No, everyone had them! Well, some people had candy or cookie tins. But those were boring. The tobacco tins were better. Everyone wanted mine because it had the cars on it," he pointed to the graphic. "Lots of boys wanted to trade theirs for it, but I never did. I knew the superiority of racing cars." He gave me a solemn nod. "Lunchboxes weren't something you could go out and buy at the time. That didn't happen until companies realized they could make a lot of money by printing cartoon characters on them."

"It's strange to think of a bunch of grade schoolers carrying around tobacco boxes." I said. He grinned and opened the tin. I could see that it was full of photos, letters, and a number of things I couldn't identify in a glance.

"This is where I keep my old postcards and photos and so forth, so they don't get spoiled." He said. "Here's a birthday postcard my aunt sent me when I turned thirteen."

He handed me a printed card from the top of the pile. It was a photo of a cat wearing a suit, above the text 'MEOUW! A HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!' I turned it over, soaking in every detail of the writing. 'TO: Ed Masen, Apartment 206, 2488 West Walnut Street, Chicago' was written in narrow, sloping script. It was postmarked June 17th. I set my eyes to the message. 'Dear Eddie, I hope that this reaches you in time! Your mother has told me how excited you are over the arrival of your birthday. I hope you have a wonderful one, and next year come and visit me. Love from Aunt Eleanor'.

"Did you visit her the next year?" I asked, wondering what his family thought of his mother's work.

"No." He said. "My cousin was killed in a horse riding accident a few months after she sent that, he was only eleven. She stopped seeing people altogether. She died of pneumonia two years later."

"I'm sorry." I said. He didn't say anything, instead pulling out a handful of aged photographs.

"See, there's my mother." He pointed to a stunning woman, perhaps in her thirties, with dark, curled hair and pale eyes. She wore a collared dress and a lacy hair-covering that obscured the top of her head. She had a wide, mischievous smile and the same angular eyebrows that Edward did.

"She's beautiful!" I said.

"And here's about six photographs she took of our cat with the folding Kodak." He had an indulgent smile on his face, looking at the portly tabby in a number of rooms. "Laziest animal I've ever known. His name was Pepper. This one's my favorite – she was inspired by the card," he handed me a photo of the cat looking very grumpy while wearing a boater hat and a bowtie. "It took her at least forty minutes to get him to sit still with all that on."

"These pictures are amazing," I said.

"Here's me as a baby," he handed me the next one. A fat baby sat on a chair, his chubby fingers wrapped around the bar that supported one of the arms. He wore a strange-looking coat with a woolly texture, and a scarf was tied around his head. His eyes were wide and clear, and his tongue stuck partway out of his mouth.

"Look at how pudgy you were!" I said in delight.

"All babies are pudgy," he said, rolling his eyes. He handed me another photo, this time of him when he was older. "That's the two of us together when I was about ten."

Though the boy was young, it was unmistakably Edward. His unruly hair was parted with the utmost care, though it still wasn't as neat as he must have wanted it to be. It looked quite dark in the photograph. He was dressed in a dark suit with a striped tie, his left hand on the right lapel, thumb tucked underneath as if he were straightening his clothing. His eyes were very pale, and although he had a grave expression on his face, the softness of youth touched every feature. His mother sat on a stool behind him, her hands folded over her lap.

"Here I am with my cousin in Nebraska. This was taken the last time my mother and I visited her sister. My cousin was a little younger than me, his name was Jackie. He and Aunt E. lived in the country, and they swam in this lake in the summer when it warmed up. Jackie and I set up a board to jump off, see?"

He handed the photo to me. Two preteen boys were depicted. Edward stood in a sodden, short-sleeved shirt and form-fitting shorts, barefoot. He was at the end of a long plank of wood, above a surprisingly high drop. He had his arms extended above his head and was smiling widely at the person holding the camera. His cousin, Jackie, knelt near the base of the board. He had curly hair that looked light even while wet. He waved at the camera with one hand, a dimple showing in a single cheek while he attempted to look suave.

"Here's Jackie in their car,"

His cousin sat in the driver's seat of a shiny car with the square windshield and large, round headlights and wheels that immediately identified it as a very old model. It had an open top, the quilted pattern of the cushions visible behind him. He had struck a faux-casual pose with one arm over the back of the seat, a flat driving cap tipped upward on his curly head.

"A convertible?" I said.

"They used to be cheaper," he explained. "A fabric top was less expensive to make than a full cover. Somewhere along the way they became more fashionable, which inevitably raises the amount people are willing to pay for them."

I looked at the photo until he handed me another one. This one appeared to be more cheaply made, the image fading against a paper back. "Here's my school's baseball team in 1912," he said. I could see Edward kneeling in the front row, wearing a white shirt with suspenders and holding a long, narrow wooden bat. His hair was windswept and he squinted against the sun. Several other boys of various ages, wearing their school clothes, kneeled next to him or stood behind him.

"I didn't know you played baseball," I said.

"I did when I was human, anyway. I can't play on school teams now, of course. Too obvious. My family plays sometimes, though."

"Where?" I asked, trying to imagine a way for the Cullens to play without anyone being able to happen by.

"In the woods. We know where all the good clearings are." He said. "Here you go – this is me just before I got sick."

I took this last photo and held it with extra care. It could not have been taken more than a few months before Edward had been changed, his features seemed almost exactly the same. His hair was longer, beginning to curl slightly at the ends, and parted in the middle. If nothing else, the strange hairstyle made it clear that the picture was taken in a different era. He was smiling, just barely, his lips looking soft and sweet. His eyes were again pale and clear, and I wondered what color they were when he was alive. His cheeks were rosy over the angular bone structure. He wore a collared shirt with a dark tie, his arms straight to his side. Oddly, he looked somehow heavier, more athletic.

"You're thinner now," I said.

"I tried to keep myself in strong shape when I was a mortal. Like I said, I wanted to join the army. I lost a lot of weight when I got sick, and the changing process only repairs damage. It doesn't rebuild beyond that." He said.

"You were just as handsome," I said to him, and he put his arm around my shoulders.

"I don't know about that," he said. "But I guess I was fair to look at, then. I didn't think so much about it, though. I focused more on my future, preparing for the life that I thought I would have. I didn't spend much time with girls, which is really the only way to discover whether or not you're good-looking."

"You never had any girlfriends?" I asked.

"No," he admitted. "People knew about my family, my mother. Even if I'd wanted to have a sweetheart, the fathers of the girls I knew would never have allowed it."

"What are those letters?" I asked, as he began to put the photos away.

"Oh, those are my mother's letters. She kept them all in a box on her desk, it's over there now–" he gestured vaguely toward his desk. I saw the box, sitting on the corner opposite the toy soldiers. It was made of a dark, aged-looking wood with an ornately carved lid. "I took it with the other stuff, but I didn't want to keep her letters on my desk. I was worried they would get damaged, so I put them with the other fragile things. Most of them are from Aunt E., but there are a lot of others, too. Letters from her friends from home, love letters from when she was young. I wasn't allowed to open the box when I was a boy, but after my mother died I read them all. It made me feel closer to her, even though I don't know what most of them are about."

I leaned my head against his shoulder. "What else is in the trunk?" I asked.

"Old stuff," he said. At my unimpressed look, he laughed. "Here, I'll show you."

He closed the tobacco tin and put his arms down into the trunk, handing me things as he discovered them. "Here's my old winter jacket," he said, giving me the heavy bundle of cloth. I touched the carved buttons. "Here's my dress blazer. My favorite boots – I'd still be wearing them if they weren't so close to falling apart." I grinned at the worn, cracking leather boots he dropped in my lap.

"Here's my pocket watch, four sets of cufflinks and two collar pins," he handed me a small white tin with blue text over an abstract red design that read, 'SMITH PREMIER TYPEWRITER RIBBON, BLUE COPYING'. I pulled the lid off, wondering if Edward had a typewriter. Inside was a sterling pocket watch with 'EM' engraved on it in large, ornate letters. Next to it in the tin were two pairs of plain sterling cufflinks, a pair of pearl cufflinks and a pair of gold cufflinks with tiny stags engraved on them. Beneath the cufflinks were two items I wouldn't have been able to identify if Edward hadn't just called them 'collar pins', narrow rectangular adornments with long pins on the back.

"Oh, here's the blanket my aunt knitted for me when my mother was pregnant. There's my domino set, though some of them got lost when I was a boy. Checkers. My paints box. Here's the shaving kit my mother gave me when I turned sixteen, it has a razor from France. Here's my cabbie," he pulled a dark brown newsboy cap from the trunk, placing it on his head. I couldn't remember ever seeing him wear a hat, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Here's my letter tiles," he pulled out a small drawstring pouch that was full of tiles that looked like Scrabble tiles, "They're for playing Anagrams. Here's the folding Kodak," He handed me a small, rectangular object with rounded corners and a lens in the front. "You hit that latch there – " he demonstrated, and with a soft sound, the square plate with the lens fitted into it moved forward, extending like an accordion outward. A flashbulb stuck out from the top. I had never seen a camera like it before, and I played with it for a moment, folding it closed and then releasing it again.

"Here is my 1917 Colt M1911, I got it when I was sixteen." He put a small, latched box on his lap and opened it to reveal a handgun. It looked to be in good shape in spite of its age, though I was surprised he owned a firearm. "I have a 1917 Eddystone, too, it's in the wardrobe."

And that was everything. I helped him pack his belongings back into the chest, examining each item again. They chest was clearly where he kept most of his treasures from life, and it was touching to see each item he had chosen to keep with him for all these years.

As he finished packing the chest, I stood and looked at his records again. I found a Frank Sinatra record and pulled it from the shelf, placing it in his turntable. He walked over to show me how to make it play, and 'Witchcraft' began as he moved to put the Cab Calloway record back on the shelf.

"I have a lot more photos in the wardrobe. My mother was always using the Kodak and putting albums together. There's some scrapbooks, too." Edward said, and I was about to jump at the opportunity to look at them when there was a knock at the door.

"Can we come in?" a soft voice sounded from the hall.

Edward shut the lid of the chest and set it on the floor, standing to open the door. Alice and Jasper stood in the doorway.

"Nice hat," Alice said. Edward would have blushed if he could have, and I laughed aloud when he hurriedly removed the old cap from his head. Alice grinned at me as Edward placed the hat on his desk. She walked – danced, really – into the room and folded herself sinuously onto the floor. Jasper stood in the door, leaning against the doorframe. "Really, it's nice, I always liked that kind."

"It reminds me of when you first came to the family, when you wore it all the time." Jasper said softly from the door.

"You started playing music and we thought we'd come see if we could listen, too." Alice changed the subject.

"Sorry, this is a private party," Edward said, though his tone was teasing.

"Can't you hear it from anywhere? With your hearing, I mean?" I asked curiously.

"The rooms are soundproofed," Jasper said. "We can tell when he plays music, but just barely."

"Why are they soundproofed?" I wondered.

"Because… with our sense of hearing, living in a house that contains three married couples…" Edward said. I suddenly understood what he meant.

"Oh!" I said.

"That's not all, though," Alice continued, not remotely embarrassed at the reference to her love life. "Any time Edward listens to music or Emmett plays video games, it's extremely obnoxious for anyone who is trying to do something else. It's impossible not to hear it, and that can become quite distracting."

"Not as bad as listening to your sewing machine." Edward countered. Alice stuck her tongue out at him.

"Actually, that's not the reason we came up," Jasper said a moment later. "Alice says there's going to be a real storm tonight, and Emmett wants to play ball. Rosalie agreed to go play. Are you game?"

"Of course you should bring Bella," Alice added. I thought I saw Jasper throw a quick glance at her, and Edward looked to me with a vivid expression.

"Do you want to go?"

"Sure." I couldn't disappoint such a face. "When are we going?"

"We have to wait for thunder to play ball – you'll see why," he promised.

"Also, Esme said that dinner is ready if Bella wants to eat." Alice added, almost as an afterthought.

"Let's go," Edward said to me.


	17. Chapter 17: The Game

17. THE GAME

I shifted uncomfortably in the off-roading harness that Edward had insisted I wear in Emmett's Jeep. There were a lot of buckles. I turned my head to watch the trees bounce by as rain poured past the windows. The speckled brown dog with large solid spots over his face and sides stuck his nose in my ear, snuffling loudly.

"Watch it, Moose," I said, trying not to laugh. He licked his chops, floppy ears at the alert. It was quickly getting darker, and I could only just see Edward's smirk from the seat next to me, on the other side of the dog. I thought I saw a smile grace Emmett's features from the driver's seat, but Rosalie stayed as still as a statue, never even glancing toward me.

"He's friendly," I said, as the dog laid his head on my knee without hesitation.

"You're warmer than he's used to," Emmett said. "Better for cozying up, I guess."

Moose began to drool on my jeans. I was glad Edward had let me go home to change before going on this adventure; it was already messy.

We arrived at our destination, and I followed Edward and his siblings over a rocky hedge that the Jeep couldn't pass. The dog seemed to have less trouble scaling the slick ground than I did, which surprised me. I supposed he was used to keeping up with vampires.

When we reached the top of the slope, Edward took my hand as we trekked the rest of the way. We went a few feet through the tall, wet ferns and draping moss, and around a massive hemlock tree. Then, we were there, on the edge of an enormous open field in the lap of the Olympic peaks. It was twice the size of any baseball stadium.

The others were already there. Esme was sitting on a bare outcropping of rock, and was the closest to us. Much farther out I could see Jasper and Alice, at least a quarter of a mile apart, appearing to throw something back and forth. I never saw any ball. It looked like Carlisle was marking bases, but could they really be that far apart?

When we came into view, Esme started toward us. Emmett threw his arm over Edward's shoulder as she did so, jerking our hands apart. Rosalie strode gracefully toward the field without a glance in our direction.

"You shoulda seen Moose, he can't get enough of our Bella." Emmett said to Esme, his face open and charming.

"Good," Esme said. "We were unsure if he would be welcoming to you, since he is accustomed to being among our kind rather than yours."

"That's why we put him in my room," Emmett added.

"He's very friendly, though he did drool on me." I said with a smile. I patted the dog on his head, and he looked up at me with the open-mouthed smile that made dogs look so sweet. Emmett kneeled in front of his dog and flapped his ears around.

"Moose, only Edward is allowed to drool on Bella!" He said in a mock-scolding voice, before taking off into the field after Rosalie. Barking, the dog followed, though he couldn't keep up. I flushed and looked at Edward, who shrugged with good humor.

Alice had left her position and was running toward us. The strange way that vampires moved was more evident as she crossed the long stretch of open ground. It was a rare thing to see someone run without their balance or posture altering at all. She hurtled to a fluid stop at our feet.

"It's time!" She announced. As soon as she finished speaking, a deep rumble of thunder shook the forest beyond us, and then crashed westward toward us.

I hadn't noticed that Jasper was now standing next to us until he laughed, and I was shocked at the loveliness of the sound. It rivaled Edward's. "Eerie, isn't it?" He said brightly, actually smiling slightly at me. I could see that getting out of the house and doing something active had improved his mood, and it was the first time I had ever seen him look anything but detached.

"Let's go!" Alice always seemed to speak with zeal, as if she were thrilled to be wherever she was. She grabbed Jasper's hand and they ran together, though after a moment they both looked caught up in the delight of their speed and their hands separated. Alice was more graceful than her lover, she moved like a dancer. What Jasper lacked in fluidity, however, he made up for in efficiency, his feet striking the ground with such force that he was actually airborne for several seconds after his foot landed. For the first time I noticed that all of Edward's family members were barefoot except for Esme, something the tall grass had hidden until Jasper's gait had lifted him upward.

"Are you ready for some ball?" Edward asked, his eyes eager.

I blinked, suddenly dubious. "You know I'm not playing, right?" I said. I hadn't planned on participating anyway, but now that I saw the sheer power of Edward and his family, it wasn't even a possibility. Edward had only once displayed his speed to me, in the meadow, and it was shocking to see the whole group of them running and jumping all at once.

"Of course," Edward said. "It would be far too dangerous for you to play!" He knelt and began removing his shoes at dizzying speed.

"Why are you all barefoot?" I asked.

"So we don't have to buy new shoes," he explained. "When we exert ourselves, our bodies can sometimes be… _destructive_ to clothing." He grinned up at me when he was free of his boots, before darting away. His run was more aggressive than the other two, propelling forward like a predatory cat. He quickly overtook Alice and Jasper, and my breath caught in my throat. Edward was always so gentle toward me, it was a surprise to see him display such power.

"Shall we go down?" Esme asked in her soft, melodic voice. She had matched her stride to mine, her feet landing in the grass so softly that there was not even a whisper of sound.

"You don't play with them?" I asked.

"No, I am not such a competitive person. I prefer to referee – it keeps their play honest."

"What, they like to cheat?" I smiled.

"Oh, yes. You should hear their quarreling! Like small children. You would think they were raised by wolves."

"You sound like my mom," I laughed, surprised.

She smiled kindly at me. "I do think of them as my children," she said. "I have always had a motherly instinct. In my first life I prayed for many children, but I was allowed only one." Her accent was mild and the cadence of it was unfamiliar, but most striking about Esme's speech was her word choice. It felt unfamiliar.

"Edward did say you had lost two children," I admitted.

"Yet gained immortal life." Esme responded matter-of-factly. "I was given hardship in life so that I could receive blessings in death."

It was such a strange thing to say that I struggled to formulate a response. "Do you think of Carlisle as your child?" I asked.

"No." She said. "I chose Carlisle as a lover, much as Edward has chosen you. A mate must be wisely selected for our kind, as it effects the coming eternity. Sometimes the wait for the right lover is very long. It has been painful to watch Edward suffer in such loneliness, I am grateful that he has finally found a worthy companion."

"You don't mind, then?" I asked, hesitant again. "That I'm… all wrong for him?"

"You are not wrong for him." She said. "The universe makes no mistakes."

"Everyone else seems so worried that he'll hurt me…"

"There is no reason for it. If Edward's strength falters, he will change you into our kind rather than see you die. No matter what he feels about such a decision, that is what will happen. You are the necessary answer to his life, and while he may not yet recognize it, he cannot live without you."

I stared at her, jumping when another peal of thunder sounded.

"Your path is chosen already." Esme said. "Time has taught me this. The struggle against what is inevitable is pointless. When you are ready to begin your next life, you must insist upon it. Edward will fight it, but it will be impossible for him to win."

Esme stopped then; we'd reached the edge of the field. It looked as if they had formed teams. Edward was far out in left field. Carlisle stood between the first and second bases, and Alice held the ball, positioned on the spot that must be the pitcher's mound. It was hard for me to focus on what was going on, Esme's comments reeling in my head.

"Batter up." Esme called in a clear voice, which I knew even Edward would hear, far as he was. Emmett was swinging an aluminum bat which whistled, almost untraceably, through the air. Jasper stood several feet behind him, catching for the other team. None of them wore gloves.

Alice stood straight, deceptively motionless. Her style seemed to be stealth rather than an intimidating windup. She held the ball in both hands at her waist, and then, like the strike of a snake, her right hand flicked out and the ball smacked into Jasper's hand.

I'd seen a lot of baseball games in my life, especially after my mother began dating Phil, and I understood what was going on easily. I had never seen the game played with such force and skill before. I worked hard to pay attention to what was happening on the field, so I could avoid thoughts of Esme's words. It had to be some of the most fatalistic advice anyone had ever given me.

Jasper hurled the ball back to Alice's waiting hand. She permitted herself a brief grin. Her hand spun out again. This time the bat somehow made it around in time to smash into the invisible ball. The crack of impact was shattering, thunderous. It echoed off the mountains – I immediately understood the necessity of the thunderstorm. It was the only way to mask the sound of the game.

The ball shot like a meteor above the field, flying deep into the surrounding forest.

"Home run," I murmured.

"It is too early to say," Esme cautioned, listening intently, one hand raised. Emmett was a blur around the bases, Carlisle shadowing him. I realized Edward was nowhere to be seen.

"Out." Esme announced to the field. I stared in disbelief as Edward sprang from the fringe of trees, ball in upraised hand. His grin was visible even from such a distance.

"Emmett has the greatest strength, but Edward's speed cannot be matched." Esme explained.

The inning continued before my eyes. It was impossible to keep up with the speed at which the ball flew, the rate at which their bodies raced around the field. Emmett seemed extremely aggressive on the field, and after I'd witnessed several fouls I had to ask about it.

"Emmett seems unable to play without fouling the others," Esme explained. "Many years ago we concluded that calling each of his fouls resulted in quite a long and unpleasant game. We chose collectively to make a special exception for him, allowing a certain number and putting responsibility for evasion on the other players. The only foul that is always enforced is pinning, as his strength makes it impossible for another to get free once he holds them down."

The score constantly changed as the game continued, and they heckled each other mercilessly, like any street ballplayers would. Occasionally Esme would call them to order. The thunder rumbled on, but we stayed dry, as Alice had predicted. At one point, I was unable to prevent the laughter when Emmett threw his entire body onto Edward and tackled him to the ground, which caused Edward to shout, "YOU'RE FOULING YOUR OWN TEAM!" several times. When he finally released Edward, Emmett grinned in my direction and I had the feeling that he didn't care at all about winning the game, he simply liked scrapping with his brothers.

Carlisle was up to bat, Edward behind him to catch, when Alice suddenly gasped. My eyes were on Edward, as usual, and I saw his head snap up to look at her. I could see that he had picked something up from her thoughts, and their eyes met for a long, tense moment. He was at my side before the others could ask what was going on.

"Alice?" Carlisle's voice was tense as he moved toward her, all of us now gathered together.

"I couldn't tell…" she was clearly distressed about something. My heart was pounding, though I still had no clue what was happening.

"What did you see?" Esme asked, her voice still calm in spite of the abrupt alarm of her family.

"They were traveling much quickly than I thought. I miscalculated." She said, her hand at her head.

"What changed?" Jasper asked, his voice sharp and his normal, tense posture returning.

"They heard us playing and changed their course." Alice sounded contrite, as if she felt responsible for whatever had frightened her. Seven pairs of eyes quickly flashed to my face.

"How much time do we have?" Emmett demanded.

"Five minutes, maybe less. They're running, they want to ambush us."

"I can't get Bella out of here that quickly." Edward said, his eyes on my face. His look was unreadable, but I could sense his fear.

"How many of them?" Rosalie spoke. It was the first time I could remember hearing her voice, and it was as heavy as the storm above us.

"Three," Alice answered.

"Three!" Emmett said, looking relieved. He actually grinned, but the predatory gleam behind the expression didn't make me feel better. "Let them come! I'll take them all!"

Carlisle looked at Esme, his face searching. "Esyllt?" He said, using Esme's birth name.

"They are curious." She suggested. "We have greater numbers. If they choose to attack, we can defeat them. To leave would separate our strength, make us more vulnerable. We must not allow them to sense any weakness."

Edward put his hand on my shoulder, giving me a reassuring look. "Remember what I said, about others of our kind coming soon?" He said softly. I nodded. "They're earlier than expected."

"What's going to happen?" I asked, suddenly feeling like a small child.

"You're going to stay very still, keep very quiet, and stay close to me." He said firmly. He touched my hair, a comforting gesture. He pulled it in front of my face, trying to arrange it around my neck.

"It won't help," Rosalie said. "I could smell her from across the field."

"I know." Edward snapped at her. The dog was weaving between our legs, its docked tail wagging as if it were trying to ease our nerves.

"Want to ride in the car?" Emmett asked Moose. Moose jumped around, before giving a single bark in excitement. "Go to the car!" he added. "Sit in the car." To my surprise, the dog ran off, wiggling all the way.

Edward paid no attention to his siblings or their nervousness. He seemed absorbed in his own thoughts, eyes ranging in the forest. "I'm sorry, Bella," he said fiercely. "It was stupid to expose you this way. I'm so sorry."

I heard his breath stop, and his eyes zeroed in on right field. He took a half step, angling himself between me and what was coming. The others followed his lead.

They emerged one by one from the forest edge, each probably a dozen meters apart. The first male into the clearing fell back immediately, allowing the other male to take the front. The first oriented himself around the tall, dark-haired man. It was clear who led the pack. The third was a woman; from this distance, all I could see of her was that her hair was a startling shade of red.

They closed ranks before they continued cautiously toward Edward's family, exhibiting the natural respect of a group of predators encountering a larger, unfamiliar group of its own kind. As they approached, I could see how different they were from the Cullens. They were even more beautiful, which was difficult to accept, because I had not thought such a thing was even possible. But the longer I looked at them, it became evident that the 'dazzle' Edward had discussed with me was simply more powerful in them.

My eyes roamed their faces, absorbing every minute detail, though the moment I shifted my gaze I found myself unable to recall anything but the most basic aspects of their appearances. Looking at their hair, their eyes, their hands… I was mesmerized by the beauty. It was only after I turned my eyes away from them that I recalled their hair being greasy, their fingernails being lined with grit. The effect seemed to create the illusion that they were clean and gorgeous, and as soon as I broke apart from it I could see that I was wrong. At the same time, the enchantment appeared to make them more anonymous, possibly to protect them from being identified by near-victims.

They dressed in the ordinary gear of backpackers. The clothes were frayed with wear, and they were all barefoot. I knew why, now.

Their sharp eyes carefully took in the more polished, urbane stance of Carlisle, who, flanked by Emmett and Jasper, stepped guardedly forward to meet them. Without saying anything, they stood straighter.

With a jolt, I realized that their eyes were different from the Cullens. Not the gold or black I had come to expect, but a deep burgundy color that put an icy ball in my stomach. The longer I stared at them, the less impact their powerful glamour had on me, and as the illusion faded I began to find their eyes intensely disturbing.

The dark-haired leader, smiling, stepped toward Carlisle.

"We thought we heard a game," he said with the slightest of French accents. "I'm Laurent. This is James and Victoria." He gestured to the blond man and the red-headed woman.

"I'm Carlisle. This is my family: Emmett, Jasper, Rosalie, Esme, Alice, Edward and Bella." He pointed us out quickly, deliberately not calling attention to individuals. I felt a shock when he said my name.

"Could we perhaps join your game?" Laurent asked. His tone was too casual, too sociable. Our access to Alice had ruined their chance of ambush, and I could see he was taking a different tactic now.

"We were just finishing up," Carlisle said, matching the tone. I glanced toward Emmett and Jasper, and noticed, uneasily, that Emmett's geared-up stance had changed significantly. He was looking rather woozy, his eyes glazed and his arms hanging limp by his side. Rosalie appeared much the same, though she stood behind him and was able to conceal it more.

I looked toward Edward, and was very alarmed by what I saw. He, too, was being influenced somehow. His eyes seemed unfocused, and although he was still extremely tense, he was tossing his head every few moments as if to clear his mind.

"We'd be interested in playing another time," Carlisle said. "Are you planning to stay for long?"

"We're headed north, but we were curious to see who was in the neighborhood. We haven't had company for some time." Laurent said.

"This region is usually empty except for us," Carlisle said.

"What is your hunting range?" The man demanded, changing the subject suddenly.

"The Olympic Range, up and down the Coast Ranges. We keep a permanent residence nearby. There's another permanent settlement like ours near Denali."

Laurent rocked back on his heels slightly. "Permanent?" He asked, though there was no real curiosity in his voice. "How do you manage that?"

"We restrict our feeding in order to remain inconspicuous." Carlisle said.

"You feed from animals." The man said. It wasn't a question. "I have seen eyes like yours before."

Three things then happened, seemingly all at once. My hair ruffled in the light breeze, Edward stiffened, a look of forced alertness on his disoriented face, and the second male – James – suddenly whipped his head around and stared at me, his nostrils flaring. James lurched one step forward into a crouch, his red eyes on my face. Edward bared his teeth, immediately mirroring James' posture, throwing his arm in front of me protectively. A sound emerged from his throat, like the snarl a cornered animal would make, sending chills down my spine. It was the single most menacing thing I had ever heard.

"What's this?" Laurent said, his lips curling. "A human pet?"

"She's with us." Carlisle said turning to look in my direction. He noticed for the first time that Emmett, Rosalie and Edward all seemed weakened. Surprise registered on his face for a fraction of a second before it was replaced with icy anger.

"Livestock?" Laurent seemed delighted at the idea, ignoring the new look on Carlisle's face.

Edward snarled even more ferociously, and Laurent stepped back, his eyes sizing Edward up.

"It appears we have a lot to learn about each other," Laurent said, his tone soothing as if to defuse the sudden hostility.

"Indeed." Carlisle said, his voice cold.

"Perhaps we may have a further discussion about this. We won't hunt in your range, out of respect."

James glanced in disbelief and aggravation at Laurent and exchanged another brief look with Victoria, whose eyes still flickered from face to face. Carlisle measured Laurent's open expression for a moment before he spoke. "We'll take you to our home." He said at last. "Jasper, Alice, Esme?" They gathered together, blocking me from view as they converged. They vanished into the woods, quickly, leaving the three weakened vampires with me. Edward nodded at something Alice communicated to him, silently, as they left.

I turned to the group that remained, confused by their reactions to the other vampires. Emmett swayed on his feet, and to my terror a line of dark blood dribbled from his nose to drip off his chin. As I watched, more blood came out, running from his eyes and nose, even his ears. He brought a heavy hand to his face as if he had a headache, smearing the blood against his pale skin absent-mindedly.

"What is that?" Rosalie said, her voice higher than before and with clear panic. Her face was a mask of horror. "Emmett!" She grabbed him by the sides of his head, looking into his eyes, but he pushed her away. I could see blood shining on her hands, and at the same moment her own face began to bleed. She didn't seem to notice.

"We need to go right now." Emmett said, his voice harsh. He turned clumsily, crashing into the woods without his usual grace.

Rosalie chased after him, her balance less affected by the bleeding, while Edward tried to help me keep up until we got to the Jeep. At one point he actually lifted me onto his back and carried me. His mind seemed completely distracted, his normal attention replaced by rage and dread, which together consumed him.

We reached the Jeep in an impossibly short time, and Edward barely slowed as he helped me into the backseat and strapped my belt for me. Emmett slid in beside me as Rosalie took the passenger seat. She had realized she, too, was bleeding and was touching her face, staring in dismay at the overhead mirror. Moose had lain across Emmett's lap as soon as he'd taken his seat, looking up at him with concern as Emmett sat with his eyes closed. Edward was the only one who wasn't bleeding, and I had the vague hope that the physical effect of the other vampires wasn't as strong in him. He took the driver's seat and put his foot to the floor.

The jolting trip was worse this time, and the darkness only made it more frightening. We hit the main road, and though our speed increased, I could see much better where we were going. We were headed south. Away from Forks.

"Where are we going?" I asked. No one answered. "Dammit, Edward! Where are you taking me?"

"We have to get you away from here – very far away – right now." He didn't look back, his eyes on the road. I craned to see that the speedometer read a hundred and five miles an hour.

"Turn around! You have to take me home!" I shouted. I struggled with the harness, tearing at the straps.

"Emmett!" Edward snapped, as if to get Emmett to restrain me. Emmett lifted his head groggily, his face a horror blood, but he did nothing to stop me from pulling at the belt. Not that he needed to. Adrenaline was making my fingers shake and I could not seem to unclasp the buckles.

"Edward! You can't do this!"

"I have to, Bella!" Edward shouted.

"You have to take me back – Charlie will call the FBI! They'll be all over your family! You'll have to leave, hide forever!"

"Nothing we haven't done before!" He snarled, still not looking at me.

"No! You can't, you'll ruin it! You're ruining everything!" I struggled violently with the straps. The more panic I felt, the less able I seemed to work the harness.

"Edward, pull over." Rosalie said. Her tone was cold. He flashed a wild look at her, not slowing down at all. "Edward, let's just talk it through."

"You don't understand!" He said. "I heard him! He's a tracker, he's going to _hunt her down_. And their illusions, they can use them on us. _Look what it did to Emmett_! We can't fight them like this, they can disable us! _He's a tracker_!"

"Tracker?" Emmett said, his head lifting again. The dog was licking his chin. I could tell that the word meant something more to the three of them than it did to me; I wanted to understand, but there was no chance for me to ask.

"Pull over, Edward!" Rosalie yelled, losing her cool. "You are out of control!"

"I'm in complete control!" He shouted back at her, his voice louder than I had ever heard it, roaring against the confines of the car.

"You're out of control, and you need to realize it!" Rosalie responded, her voice just as loud.

"You know how they are! Once they fix on a victim, they can't stop obsessing until they're dead! How long do you think it will take him to cross her scent in town?"

I felt a terrified shock pass through my body. I knew where any scent tracking would lead. "My dad! You can't leave him there! You can't!"

"She's right!" Rosalie shouted. "We need to look at our real options, and that isn't one of them!"

We suddenly screeched to a stop on the shoulder of the highway.

"There aren't any other options," Edward hissed.

"I'm not leaving my dad!"

There was a long silence. "We have to take her back," Emmett spoke at last. He seemed to have regained at some coherency.

"No. We can't." Edward said flatly.

"He's no match for us all, even if the three of us can't fight. He won't be able to touch her. His group will leave soon and he'll have to go with them." Emmett said.

"He won't, he'll wait. He'll stay behind. We'd have to kill him." Edward protested.

Emmett didn't seem bothered by the idea, and I could see that he was quickly regaining his bearings. His face was still a wreck, the blood beginning to congeal and crust against his skin. "That's an option." He said.

"If they don't leave, if the whole pack stays… if it turns into a fight…" Edward said helplessly.

"There's another option." Rosalie said softly.

Edward spun on her, enraged. "I – WON'T – DO – IT." His voice was a blistering snarl.

"Don't talk to her like that!" Emmett said, but Rosalie seemed unsurprised by Edward's reaction. The silence lasted for a long minute as Edward and Rosalie stared each other down.

"We need to talk to Esme and Carlisle." Rosalie said. "This affects the entire family. We all need to discuss it together. And we need to include Charlie Swan in the calculation – you cannot just let that man die. She will never forgive you if you do."

He looked toward me, his eyes softening. I could see the true fear in them. I was astounded by Rosalie's defense of me, her defense of my father. She didn't even know me, and she'd always seemed to hate me. But she was absolutely right. If my father was murdered because Edward wouldn't include his safety in our plans, I would never, ever forgive him. He seemed to see the truth in Rosalie's words, and leaned back against his seat with an unhappy sigh.

"Okay. We'll find Carlisle."


	18. Chapter 18: Goodbyes

18. GOODBYES

We parked outside of the Cullen's home. We waited for several minutes while Edward pushed outward with his ability, trying to sense whether the other vampires were still there.

"They're gone." He said after what seemed like forever. I still felt afraid as we walked in from the outbuilding Edward had parked in, but I trusted his judgment. He had been in such a panic before… I knew there was no way he would lie to me. As we entered the house, the others came toward the sound of the door opening, but I could tell that they were shocked by the blood covering Emmett and Rosalie.

"Good Lord!" Carlisle said as he caught sight of them.

"What happened?" Alice asked, her voice mirroring Carlisle's shock.

"I have seen this before." Esme said, her tone vague. Carlisle looked at her, clearly alarmed. "We chose this life, to feed from animals only, but such a choice is not without problems. A blood drinker that feeds from human beings is stronger. Their illusion is stronger also. It can cause illness in the malnourished of our kind."

"How are we more malnourished than any of you?" Rosalie asked tensely, accepting a wet cloth from Alice and beginning to aggressively wipe at the blood on her face.

Carlisle gave Esme a confused look, waiting for the answer as well.

"You are not," Esme said. "There is no clear reason it should affect one rather than the other. Maybe those of us that did not bleed have strength remaining from feedings in the past. I drank from humans for four thousand years. Jasper fed from humans last year. Alice may have fed from hundreds before her memory began."

"Carlisle hasn't ever fed on humans!" Edward said.

"I do not have an answer for you," Esme said. "I can merely make a guess. This is a rare effect, I have seen it only once."

"Who?" Emmett asked.

"A man I met in south of England when I traveled as a mystic there, long before even Carlisle's grandfather was born. He told me his name was Nils. He was very handsome; he could not have been more than twenty years when he had been changed. I remember still his olive skin… how very dark his hair was, and with such lovely curls… he had been a vampire for only two hundred years, quite young in my view. His eyes were gold in color, which I did not know at the time indicated his feeding – I would learn that from Carlisle."

"You thought he was a different kind of vampire?" Carlisle asked.

"Yes. There are so many surviving breeds, and he was the first I met with such eyes. At this time, I fed only from humans. The mystic trade brought me prey in abundance. Many resident shepherds who came to me asked about strange deaths in their flocks. I suspected a blood drinker, and I set to look for this companion. I came across his camp in the wood, where he was living in a large goahti shelter. We spent nearly an hour inside his dwelling with no harm. I wished to understand his physical differences to me, and he was passionate to have a woman after decades without company of any kind."

I saw Edward shift as he understood what Esme was suggesting had happened with this other vampire, and I looked toward Carlisle. His face remained unchanged.

"But after that first hour of indulging ourselves, I noticed a change begin in him. The longer I stayed, the more deficient in faculty he became. Perhaps another hour into the onset of effects, blood began to flow from his eyes and nose. He asked what I had done, and I understood that I was causing the illness by some unknown, involuntary influence. I wished to know the limitations of this magic, and held him in place to prevent his leaving my presence." She paused thoughtfully.

"What happened?" Jasper asked, his face guarded. He knew the answer would be bad, I suppose he may have sensed it from Esme's emotional state.

"He rapidly deteriorated, and I was overcome by yearning to feed from him. I had thought such a thing was impossible with another of my kind and had never before felt the impulse, but the effect of my power seemed to alter his nature wholly. Even the scent of him, and the blood on his face, changed appreciably as I held him down. In his weakened state, he became even more desirable prey than mortal man. There was no option to resist; in truth, I did not even want to."

"You fed from him?" Emmett asked in a harsh voice, looking horrified.

Carlisle stood by with his face drawn, his eyes suddenly dark. I wondered if he knew the story already, but it seemed new to him. It occurred to me that when Carlisle had decided not to drink blood from humans, when he was first turned, Esme could have shared the story with him. Was he angry that she hadn't?

"I never before and never again experienced such a thirst. I drank his blood, which was in practice like drinking of a mortal man… but the effect was unlike a normal feed. The flavor was more complex than a man's blood, but even further, it had an addictive quality. I had never felt such euphoria from tasting a human, and the blood itself was intoxicating. I could not stop myself from draining him entirely. He did not fight me, too enfeebled to defend himself. He perished in the very way a mortal would have, when his blood was gone. In minutes the flesh that remained softened into a pool of black sap and sank into the earth. I did not feel any thirst for nearly seven months, during which time I had more energy and strength than I had ever possessed. At the time I believed that Nils' illness was initiated by our joining. I see now that such a union is not required to cause the reaction."

The house was silent as Esme completed her story, and for a long, uncomfortable time afterward. This was clearly something the others had never even heard of, something that hardly any vampires would know. I found myself desperately afraid for Edward's safety, knowing what lengths he would go to in protecting me. I couldn't bear the idea that he would die in such a horrific way to keep me from getting hurt.

"Emmett was hit the hardest," I said quietly. "You should stay away from those vampires, Emmett. Rosalie, too. Edward was the only one who didn't bleed, but he was standing farther back."

"No." Emmett said, angry. "I won't sit a fight out! There's an easy way to fix this. We need to drink human blood."

"No!" Edward and Carlisle exclaimed in unison.

"Is it really so crazy?" Rosalie said in response. "James is a tracker, Edward identified it. If drinking human blood will keep us from getting fed on? If this happens again and they have the same impact as Esme did, we'll die. And then Bella would die, too. Making the tracker and his pack more powerful… you might be unable to protect her. Charlie Swan also needs protection."

"I'm not killing anyone!" Edward said hotly.

"You don't have to." Jasper said, speaking for the first time. His tone was soft but firm. "Carlisle has access to blood at the hospital."

There was another long silence. We all looked at Carlisle, to see if he would agree.

"No," Carlisle said at last. At the beginnings of protest from Emmett and Jasper, he held up his hand. "Let me speak." He took a moment to formulate his thoughts, before continuing. "The most important thing right now is to get Bella to safety. If James is a tracker, he will not be able to stop himself, we all know that. Edward, are you absolutely certain that he fixed onto Bella?"

"Yes." Edward said, his tone unreadable. "He was already making plans."

"Then we need to take her out of Forks. Bella, the best course to protect your father is to go home – under our protection – and then leave. Find some way, some excuse… get out of the house. The scent trail will make it clear when James goes there that you left, and he will not bother Charlie – though for your peace of mind, one of us who didn't get the bleeds can stay to watch him."

"Yes, please." I said, desperate.

"Make an excuse, something, to get out of the house… at least for the night. If we need longer to take care of this situation, we will deal with it tomorrow. For now, let's just plan for the night."

"Okay." I said, my heart in my throat.

"I will go to the hospital and take three bags of blood. You will _not_ be permitted to drink them now. They are a last resort only." Carlisle said. "You all know how difficult it is to recover from a relapse. We must not allow it to happen if it isn't absolutely necessary. If you begin to bleed, drink. Keep the blood on your person at all times."

"Where will we be going?" Jasper asked.

"You, Alice and Edward will be taking Bella somewhere that is highly populated. Fly somewhere – break the scent trail so that James can't simply find you on foot. Seattle is too close."

"Phoenix!" I said. "I know Phoenix. I've lived there all my life. I can find places for us to hide."

"Good. It's far away, it's densely populated, and James will be unable to travel in the daytime. Edward and Alice – take Bella to her home to gather her belongings and deal with Charlie Swan. I will go to the hospital and retrieve the blood. Be back here in an hour. We'll meet and separate."

"How are we separating?" Emmett demanded.

"Esme – I want you to watch over Charlie. Make sure that James does not hurt him. You're the most experienced of us, you'll be the hardest to detect. I will go to Denali to see if any of the Alaskan group can help us handle James. Emmett and Rosalie – you will be staying at the house. Continue as usual, and call me if you notice any of the vampires we met today on our property, especially the tracker. If a confrontation begins here, Emmett will be able to communicate his thoughts to Edward. Edward, Alice and Jasper will go with Bella. Alice and Jasper were unaffected by the tracker's pack, so they will be able to protect her more effectively. And Edward deserves to be with her."

Edward nodded shortly.

"Go. Now." Carlisle said.

We went.

...

Charlie was waiting up for me. All the house lights were on. My mind was blank as I tried to think of a way to make him let me go. This wasn't going to be pleasant. I was so afraid for him, and for myself. Edward had hidden himself in front of our house while Alice waited in her car on the street, the engine off.

Both of them were acutely alert, ramrod straight in their respective positions.

"Don't worry, Bella," Alice said to me as I unbuckled my safety belt. "We'll take care of things quickly."

I felt moisture filling up my eyes as I looked at her. I barely knew her, and yet, not knowing how things were going to turn out made her words more reassuring than even she could have expected. I wondered if I would see Emmett and Rosalie again… Rosalie who had become so defensive of me after all. I didn't know if I would ever see Carlisle or Esme again. I didn't know if I would die. On impulse, I surged forward to hug Alice, tears escaping my eyes.

"Go on, now." She said softly. "As quickly as you can."

I put myself back together and got out of the car, walking to my house. It had ended up feeling like home, something I'd thought was impossible. I stepped into the house, and Charlie called to me.

"Hey, how was your date?"

It was such an innocent, well-meaning question, yet I found myself tongue-tied.

"Oh, it was okay." I said. "Edward's family is really nice."

"I told you! People just give them a bad time around here. Are you hungry?"

"No, I ate with Edward's family." It felt like years ago that I'd eaten the pasta Esme had prepared. So much had happened since then.

"You'll have to bring your boyfriend here for dinner, soon. I know I've met him, but I'm your dad. I reserve the right to make him uncomfortably by grilling him about his intentions." He grinned at me. I couldn't help but smile back. I had an idea, then, how to get myself out of the house. Carlisle had said to just think of a way to get one night. I could do that.

"Sure, sure," I said, trying to sound as convincingly sarcastic as I normally would. "Hey, Jessica called and asked me to spend the night. I told her I would, I guess I should have asked first…"

"Jessica Stanley?"

"Yeah, she's one of the girls I went to Port Angeles with." I said.

"I remember. But it's a weeknight, Bella," He said, looking puzzled.

"I know, but I already told her I'd go. I got excited," I shrugged, giving him a pretend embarrassed look.

"Okay, just this once." Charlie said, giving me an indulgent smile. "Next time, ask me before you agree, though. That's really more of a weekend thing."

"I know, I know. I'll go get my stuff. Thanks dad!"

I left the room and allowed my face to relax from the happy expression I'd forced onto it. I ran to my room and packed a duffel bag with clothes, hairbrush and toothbrush, toiletries, and my photo album. I ran back downstairs, carefully setting my face to look calm and happy.

"Bye, dad!" I called. He waved from the couch. "I love you." I said.

"Love you too, Bells." He seemed surprised that I said it, and I guess it was a little strange for me. I didn't usually tell him I loved him every time I left the house, but I couldn't stop myself. I needed him to know it.

I opened the door, taking a deep breath. I shouted through the house, making sure that any vampire in the vicinity would hear me. "BYE, DAD!"

"Drive safe!" He shouted back to me.

I ran out into the yard, and Edward followed me into my truck. We drove back to the Cullen house, as fast as my truck would allow, with Alice behind me on the road.

"The tracker heard you." Edward muttered. "I felt him change direction. He's running behind us on the road, but he thinks Alice and I are too strong for him to attack just yet."

"Good," I said. "I started to worry that he would go to Jessica's… I didn't think about it, when I was talking to my dad, and I was going to ask you to watch her house, too."

"No," Edward said. His voice was low, and I hoped that the other vampire couldn't hear him over my engine. "He knows that we have identified him as a tracker, and suspects we're fleeing. He saw that you had two vampire escorts at your house, he must have figured it out. He'll probably see us leave again, and he'll follow us to the airport. But I doubt he'll have the money necessary to buy a ticket for himself to go anywhere."

"Why did this happen?" I asked. "Why me?"

Edward stared blackly at the road ahead. "It's my fault. I was a fool to expose you like that."

"Like what?" I asked. "It could have happened anywhere!"

"Alice knew that the others were coming, that they would be looking for us. I shouldn't have invited you to the game, with us all together, even if I'd thought we would have more time. It was dangerous to do." He said.

"That's not what I mean, anyway." I said, shaking my head. "Why did James decide to kill _me_? There are people all over the place, what's so special about me?"

"You don't understand," he sighed. "First and foremost – there _is_ something special about you. Our abilities don't work on you. Perhaps part of it was the challenge of that, but it's not the heart of the problem. There are many different types of our kind, though we normally coexist easily. Trackers are a different – different _breed_ than we are. They see a potential victim, and it's like their brain decides for them: 'that one'. Their psychology makes it impossible for them to decide not to track and kill. In the short-term, they can control themselves… James' survival depended on _not _taking on seven powerful, well-fed vampires. He was able to wait until after he was free of our company to come after you. But ultimately he can't stop, he can never stop until he has fed from you."

"Why does something like that exist?" I asked, horrified.

"Efficiency," Edward said. "Most people don't have the help of other vampires to keep them safe. I think it must be a pretty effective method of hunting. It also takes care of anyone that might have witnessed them do something strange, something inhuman… keeps them a secret." He shrugged. "I don't know and I don't care. We're going to keep you safe, and that's all there is to it. We need to focus on what we're doing, not why the situation came about."

"You're right." I said.

"I don't think we have any choice but to kill him now," Edward said softly. "Carlisle will be unhappy about it, but he knows as well as any of us what trackers are like."

"How can you kill a vampire?" I asked.

He glanced at me with unreadable eyes and his voice was suddenly harsh. "Fire," he said. "Our bodies are highly flammable. The breed that we are – my family, I mean – usually have to be torn to pieces before being burned, because it is so difficult to incapacitate us. He shouldn't be quite so difficult, but he is very strong and you saw… what happened to Emmett…"

"The rest of his pack will fight with him?" I asked.

"The woman probably will. They're mates. I don't know about Laurent… I got the impression he was only with them for convenience. He is a different breed from James. He appeared embarrassed by James' behavior in the meadow."

"But the two – they'll try to kill you?" I asked, my voice raw.

"Bella, don't you _dare_ waste time worrying about me."

I took a breath, unable to stop myself from doing that very thing. "Is he still following?"

"Yes. He won't attack the house, though. Not tonight."

We turned onto his drive, Alice following. We drove right up to the house. The lights inside were bright, but they did little to alleviate the blackness of the encroaching forest. Emmett was at my door, opening it before the truck was stopped. I crawled out of the seat with as much speed as I could and, flanked by Alice and Edward, followed Emmett back inside.

When we entered, all of Edward's family was there. Laurent was also there.

"He's tracking us." Edward announced, staring straight into Laurent's face.

Laurent's face was passive. "I was afraid of that. I should have known better than to travel with a tracker. They never manage to respect other's hunting grounds."

Alice and Jasper were by my side, Edward taking my arm in his hand as the others watched. I could see that they each had a bag prepared, ready to leave immediately. Jasper put a third bag at Edward's feet.

"What will he do?" Carlisle asked Laurent in chilling tones.

"The same thing trackers always do." Laurent responded. "There is a reason they do not get along with others of our kind. They are not made to have self-control. It's sad, in a way. They have no free will."

"James' lack of freedom doesn't remove the danger to Bella!" Edward snarled, angry at Laurent's sympathy toward my would-be killer.

"No, it doesn't. You will have to change her." Laurent said simply. I felt a shock run through me, and many of the Cullens turned their eyes away from my confusion.

"I'm not changing her." Edward said. "She doesn't want that."

Laurent gave him a long look. "Then you will have to kill James." He said. "Does it not seem the better choice by far to give your lover eternal life? When the alternatives are death for her, or death for James? You do not need to kill him. If you turn her into one of us, the fixation will break."

"She doesn't want to be turned, I'm not going to force her."

I kept silent, although I could not stop the thought: _he didn't ask me if I wanted to be turned._

"You will kill a man instead of this? You will kill him, understanding that he can't help what he is?"

"Yes!" Edward said. "Yes, I will. A creature so uncontrollable should not exist. Even if – though I would _never_ – change Bella, he would simply move on to the next. I won't change her just so he can do this to someone else. He has to be stopped."

Laurent lowered his eyes, his face conflicted. "I understand. Nevertheless, there are many others of his kind in the world. Will you kill them all, I wonder? I believe it's better to avoid killing when possible. This is why I am intrigued by the life you have created here. I can't be in the middle of this, however. I've never seen anyone defeat James. He is absolutely lethal. That is why I joined his coven."

I was surprised. _His_ coven. The show of leadership had been merely a display, a way to use a weaker member of the pack as a decoy, in case of violence.

"I bear you no enmity, but I will not go up against James. I think I will head north – to that clan in Denali." He hesitated. "Don't underestimate James. He's got a sharp mind and unparalleled senses. He's every bit as comfortable in the human world as you seem to be, and he will find a way to surprise you. I am sorry."

"Go in peace." Carlisle said, sounding formal.

Laurent took another long look around himself, and then he hurried through the door. The silence lasted less than a second.

"How close?" Carlisle looked to Edward.

Rosalie was already moving; her hand touched an inconspicuous keypad on the wall, and with a groan, huge metal shutters began sealing up the glass wall that covered the entire south side of the house. I gaped. Esme turned and kissed Carlisle. She spoke to him very softly, "I will go to Charlie Swan's home, to ensure that neither the tracker nor his mate go there. You have all my love. Keep alive and come back to me."

He nodded, his eyes guarded, and she left.

"What's the plan?" Edward asked, picking up the bag.

"You proceed as we discussed. Take Bella to Phoenix. Emmett and Rosalie will wait here for me to bring reinforcements from Denali. I will try to be back within a few hours,"

I blinked, not understanding how that could be possible.

"When we are back… we track the tracker. There is no other choice."


	19. Chapter 19: Layover

19. LAYOVER

The problem with flying at the last minute was that there was very little choice in the routes available. We had a twenty hour layover in Las Vegas. It was as good a place to wait as any, Alice had said, and Edward had agreed.

"It may be better, really." Jasper had pointed out. "Two flights could further reduce the chances of being tracked."

We had checked into a hotel. Edward and I were down the hall from Jasper and Alice, but knowing their speed made it less alarming than it might have otherwise been to be separated. Edward had positioned himself at the window, looking out at the dark lot behind the hotel, while I showered away the discomfort of the day.

In the shower, for the first time it occurred to me that Edward and I were actually spending the night together. In a hotel. Alone.

I washed every inch of myself, shampooing and shaving carefully. I brushed my teeth, and changed into my pajamas. I looked at myself in the mirror for a long moment before I turned off the bathroom light and stepped back into the room, letting the steam escape through the open doorway.

Edward didn't look up as I came in, so absorbed in his vigilance.

"Edward." I said. He looked up, his eyes far away. "Come get in bed."

He blinked, looking surprised at the request. It shook him from his distraction. "Bella, I don't sleep." He said, after a moment.

"Well, I do, and I want you over here. Please. Close the drapes and come get in bed. Don't make me sleep by myself." I said.

His face was first sympathetic, then concerned, but he did as I asked. "I didn't pack any pajamas," he said.

"That's okay."

He took off his jacket and his shoes, dropping them to the floor and crawling under the comforter. I turned off the light and did the same. When I was under the sheets, I pulled him toward me, pressing my face against his chest. I felt his breath against the top of my head, and after a moment he relaxed, wrapping his arms around me.

I leaned my head up and kissed him. "I love you." I said.

"I love you, too." He responded.

We had never said it to each other before, and although we were still in the beginning of our relationship, nothing about it felt wrong. I knew then what would happen that night. I didn't want to die without experiencing being with Edward completely, and that was a real risk in our situation. I didn't want to wait. There might not be another opportunity to share ourselves in the same way.

I expected him to resist, to tell me 'no'. When we'd first started dating he had been so worried about losing control, and I expected him to claim that it would be too difficult for him to keep his thirst under control while making love. He didn't, though. He seemed to mirror my urgency, the need to fully express our feelings. He was so careful with me, so gentle, as if I could break at the slightest touch.

I never regretted being with him that night, not once. He treated me with love and sweetness, and I couldn't have expected anything better from my first time. I knew that he loved me, and I loved him too. It kept our dread away for at least a little while.

Afterward, when it was over, we laid in each other's arms. The exhaustion hit me hard, but I was unable to muster any fear with his arms around me, his breath in my ear, together in the dark. It wasn't long before I fell asleep.

...

When I woke up, I was confused. My thoughts were hazy, still twisted up in dreams and nightmares; it took me longer than it should have to realize where I was. The bland room, bedside lamps bolted to the tables, the long heavy drapes blocking the sun from the room… it was a hotel. I turned in bed, and saw Edward next to me.

He was almost completely motionless, his chest still bare. His bronze hair was mussed against the pillow. His long, pale limbs crossed over his stomach, stretched toward where I had slept. His eyes were closed, the dark lashes brushing over his cheeks. I could see his eyes moving slightly under the lids. His chest rose and fell with deep, even breaths.

He was asleep.

I reached over, brushing my fingers against his bare chest. He moved slightly, but was not roused. He muttered something unintelligible.

I jumped in shock when there was a sudden knock at the door. "Bella," Jasper's voice called. "Is Edward alright? What's going on?"

He must have sensed something different about Edward's mental state, and come to investigate. The knock woke Edward, and he surged forward, as disoriented as anyone being shaken out of a deep sleep.

"He's fine, Jasper." I called back. Edward blinked at me sleepily. I could tell from the expression that bloomed on him that my face must have looked astonished.

"What..?" Edward said, grasping that he was actually waking up.

"Let me in, please." Jasper requested from the hall.

I realized we were both naked. I flushed as Edward seemed to recognize the same thing, his eyes wandering over me, and hastily gathered my pajamas from the floor to get myself dressed enough to let Jasper into the room. Edward followed suit, still looking disoriented. When I went to the door, Edward was sitting on top of the wrinkled comforter, his hair still mussed in unmistakable bedhead.

"What happened?" Jasper asked, looking between us. Alice walked up behind him, having heard the soft discussion between her husband and us. "I felt something very strange from Edward."

"He fell asleep." I said.

"Vampires don't sleep," Alice said.

"No, she's right." Edward said. His voice was shaking. "I was asleep. Jasper knocked, and I woke up."

"I don't understand." Jasper said.

"Neither do I!" Edward said. "But I was, I was asleep! I… I had a dream, even. I dreamt that my mother wanted me to take up puppetry."

"Puppetry?" I asked.

"I forgot how silly dreams can be!" He laughed in amazement. After the laugh faded, he shook his head, looking moved. "I dreamt about my mother. I saw her face. It was so real, like I could reach out and touch her..."

"How is it possible?" Jasper asked.

"I don't know." Edward said, his voice still full of wonder. "It must be… it has to be Bella. She fell asleep when we were in bed. She must have done it somehow, taken me with her."

"You were in bed together?" Alice asked, giving me a curious look. I blushed, but Edward kept talking.

"We can't use our abilities on her… James fixated on her… there's something about her. Something more powerful than we thought, something that not only protects her from our talents but which can actively change _us_. That's the only thing that makes sense."

"That's not the only thing that makes sense. What if it is something left over from the illness you experienced?" Jasper asked.

"No, it's not possible." Edward said.

"How do you know?"

"Because I feel great!" Edward said. "I feel like – like I just got a great night's sleep!" He laughed again, loudly. "It feels nothing like what they did to me. I'm rested, I'm reenergized."

"This is remarkable." Alice said. "Can you go to sleep again, Bella? I want to try."

"Alice, one day I will do that. Today, we need to concentrate on getting to Phoenix." I said.

The room seemed to darken at my words, and Edward's astonishment was replaced with the fear that had driven him the day before.

"We have ten hours before our flight leaves." Edward said, looking at the clock. "I'm going to take a shower. Will you two stay with Bella?"

"Of course." Alice said.

I made the bed, and Alice and I sat on it, watching television, as Edward showered. Jasper took the chair by the window, though the drapes remained closed. I set the coffee maker up, smelling the cheap coffee that every hotel seemed to provide.

"I love the smell of coffee," Alice commented, reclining against the pillows as another cartoon came on. "Never could drink it, though. Caffeine makes me jumpy."

"What are the plans for today?" I asked.

"We'll need to stay inside," Alice said. "It's a shame, I'd love to go see the city. Too sunny to go out in the day."

"It's not that great, I've been before," Jasper said from the window. "Lots of drunk people, flashing lights, people handing you flyers on the street."

"What about the casinos?" Alice said, grinning. "I'd be great at gambling!"

I grinned back at her. "I'm sure you would, with your special talent. But movies have indicated that any time someone gets really lucky in Vegas, they get beaten up and thrown out."

"We could team up," Jasper said, and I saw him smile slightly. He was such a reserved person that it was surprising to me any time he showed emotion. "You make the winnings, I'll keep the casino happy with it."

Alice laughed. Where Edward's laugh was resonant like a bell, hers reminded me more of chimes, fleeting and unpredictable. "You'd have such a guilt trip, Jas," Alice said, "using it for all that personal gain."

"Not against greedy casino people," he argued. Alice shook her head, rolling her eyes and smiling at me.

"Are you hungry, Bella?" Alice asked. The show had ended and she was flipping through channels too quickly for me to see what was on them. "You'll have to tell us when you are, we'll call down to room service."

I smiled. "Can we trust the room service here?" I asked.

"We'll find out!"

We fell into a calm silence. I began to realize that waiting, here, in a random hotel in Las Vegas was not as conducive to fear as the act of running. It was hard to maintain my anxiety about James when there was no sign of him, and I was surrounded by three vampires that could take care of me. In a way, I was happy to be where I was. Carlisle would be bringing reinforcements to take care of James, and we wouldn't have to be there.

"How long do you think this trip will take?" I asked the other two. Jasper shook his head.

"No saying. If they find him easily, we could be home by tomorrow. The layover makes it unlikely that we will be home before then."

"I'll have to think of something to tell my dad…" I said.

"I'm sure Edward will help you think of something." Alice told me.

I went quiet again. It was hard to know what to say to these two, I didn't know them well. I wondered how they felt about being forced to protect me, rather than their family members that had been left behind. Emmett and Rosalie especially, they were the most vulnerable.

"I'm sorry for all this," I said quietly.

"It's been almost a century that Edward's been alone," Alice said. "I was lucky… I found Jasper so young. Edward wasn't as fortunate. Now he's found you. You can't see the changes that we see, those of us who have been with him for so long."

Jasper nodded. "None of us could bear to look into his face for the next hundred years, if he lost you."

I dropped my eyes, smiling slightly.

"He certainly never went through all his belongings with me," Jasper added. "And we're brothers now."

I caught his gaze. "Sometimes it's harder to open up to your family." I said.

"Not for me," Jasper said. "Family is the most important thing. I trust them more than anything."

"Were you close to your family?" I asked. "Your first family, I mean?"

Jasper was silent for a long moment. "Yes," he said. "My family was very close. I grew up in Maryland with my mother and father. We were a farming family, so we worked together closely. I had an identical twin brother named Arthur, and two younger siblings, Margot and William. My grandfather lived with us, and also my Aunt Bea and her son Alec. My uncle had been lost in a storm at sea, so we took care of them."

"When was that?" I asked.

"I was born in 1759." He said. "My last name is actually Whitlock."

"So you and Rosalie aren't actually siblings?" I wondered why they had made that distinction to the people of Forks.

"No, no," Jasper smiled at me. "Actually, Rosalie is my… third cousin? She's Alec's granddaughter."

"How strange that you found each other!" I said. "That's amazing."

Jasper appeared to enjoy the conversation, which I hadn't expected. He seemed like someone who didn't want to share himself, but perhaps it was more that he didn't think people would want to hear it.

"What was your life like? How did it happen, for you?" I asked.

He scratched his chin, turning his eyes away. "I grew up in Chestertown, Maryland. It was a port town, so there was a lot of contact with the British through shipping. Even when I was very young it was impossible not to notice the strain that was growing between the colonies and Britain. People talked about it constantly. And Maryland was much divided, there was a lot of British support. But for the most part, my childhood was like any boy's; Arthur and I spent most of our time hunting, fishing, playing games or pranks. We helped with the younger kids, and from an early age my father began teaching us to work the farm."

Alice was watching her husband as raptly as I was. I knew that she must know the story already, but her interest in it hadn't waned. I should have known that the stories of the older vampires would still be incredible to the younger ones. I wondered when Alice had been born. Somehow I was certain she was the younger in the pair.

To me, thinking of the colonies brought up strange feelings… memories of books, movies, things that made it feel like fiction. Like it had happened in another world. Yet here was Jasper, a man who had lived through it.

"Childhood wasn't as long back then. I was working as a man when I was fifteen, farming and helping one of my uncles at the harbor. It was there, with Uncle Nathaniel, that I saw the Chestertown Tea Party. It was one of many inspired by the event in Boston. When the colonies declared independence and the war began, Arthur and I were sixteen. We both enlisted with the militia to help fight King George.

"At sixteen?" I was shocked.

"I was young, strong, and ready to die for my country. They needed all the help they could get. I felt it would be the most defining moment in my life. I gave all of myself to the rebellion and spent all my free time training. But I could see that to my friends it was not given such importance, including my brother. They drank and caroused rather than train."

"I always imagined soldiers to be more disciplined than that." I said.

"Not in the beginning. The local militia didn't have the structure that the Continental Army later brought. I couldn't believe how my brother behaved. He was acting like a child, and I was bitterly disappointed in him. There was no time for his games. I couldn't understand how he could be so unfocused while I was fighting with my whole heart for the country. He did not even seem to care about the cause." He gave a small sound of frustration.

"But… my own serious attitude began to wear heavily on me. I was given respect for my skill and leadership on the field, but I did not have anyone to confide in, to relieve my own burdens. Arthur could see the struggle I faced and came to me, one night. He knew I disagreed with his behavior, but he quite eloquently impressed upon me the importance of an emotional catharsis. He said if I didn't bother with recreation I would go mad and fall apart. So I went with him for a night away from the camp. He found some whiskey… I was unaccustomed to drinking and became intoxicated very quickly. We got lost on the way back to the camp, wandering right into a group of redcoats."

Edward had emerged from the shower, and he sat on the corner of the bed, next to me. He seemed surprised that Jasper was sharing his story, but he said nothing. He put his hand on my back as we listened to his brother speak.

"Of course, we were captured. They quickly discovered I had a higher rank than my brother, and was more valuable for information. I wouldn't tell them anything so they brutally beat him in front of me, saying they would kill him if I didn't comply. I know that my country should have taken precedence, but… he was my brother. I did as they asked. They left him bleeding and unconscious in the woods. It might sound generous that they did actually release him, but with the state they left him I was desperately afraid he would die of exposure. They kept me for four days before I escaped."

He took a breath, shaking his head. The thoughts of his twin brother seemed to be very difficult for him. When he had composed himself, he continued. "On my fifth night, I ran away into the woods. My hands were tied behind me, but somehow I evaded them. I found a young boy out fishing, and he took me to his home. I waited with his family until two of my men came to collect me. But it was only a few minutes in their company that I knew something was wrong. They took me out of town and through a field, saying not one word to me. I didn't know what was waiting until I smelled the tar."

"Tar?" I asked, on the edge of my seat.

"They had to punish me somehow and back then tar and featherings were a common way to do it. I had never before heard of it killing anyone, not until later. I wonder if perhaps they used a different type of tar… it doesn't matter. They stripped me and poured the tar over my body while it was still boiling. I don't remember much after that. They left me dying there, I was nineteen. But the strangest thing… after all that, all I could think was that if they knew what I had done, Artie must have survived."

There was a long silence. He had called his brother 'Artie', sounding almost like a child when he said the pet name. Jasper fussed idly with a loose thread on his chair.

"That's where Carlisle found me. I don't remember that, either, or the change. I woke several days later, entirely recovered. Aside from scars, that is. Carlisle and Esme tried valiantly to teach me to control the bloodlust, but in those early days I had many mistakes. The bloodshed of war is very difficult to resist. Hundreds of wounded redcoats fell under my hands. It is still a fight to abstain. I sometimes wonder if it is impossible for me to ever get the thirst completely controlled, being turned under such violent circumstances."

I frowned, and Edward's hand moved in soothing circles on my back. "Did you ever see your brother again?" I asked.

"Yes, actually." Jasper said, looking up at me. "But he did not see me. Five years after my change, I went to my family home. I wanted just to see one of them, just to see their faces. I crept up to the windows in the night. Arthur was sleeping in the front room, near to death and covered in disease. I could tell from the scent of the house that he had smallpox. I fled, determined never to visit the family again. But some years later I did visit our home. The family was at Alec's wedding. I broke into the house and took a number of my old belongings."

"After all that time?"

"I was afraid they would be lost. Carlisle had told me of all the things he'd lost after being changed. It's hard to describe the importance that belongings take when you separate from your human life. Your feelings are inextricable from your history, and objects are the only part of your life that you can still touch. They're part of your memories. When you can no longer be with your family, your belongings give comfort in their place. They can't be replaced by later belongings, because only those were part of your human life. Nothing can compare. Edward was luckiest in that way – Carlisle understood the importance of the familiar by the time he changed Edward, so he was given the opportunity to gather the belongings he wanted."

"I was lucky." Edward agreed. "Memories fade. It's important to me that I have a connection to my mother, our past. When I begin to feel lost I can look at my books, my photos…"

"The farther we are from our human side, the more difficult to keep hold of ourselves. We become another creature entirely, one that can't see the value of human life. Above everything else you need your link to what made you human. You need to retain your link to your life, to the people you loved. It's the most effective way to resist the thirst."

"What about you, Alice?" I asked.

Alice smiled, shaking her head. "I know a few things, from research. I was born in 1850, I was listed on an asylum's records in 1866, the same year that my family printed a death notice in a newspaper. My actual death – based on Carlisle's examinations of my teeth – appears to have been 1869. But I don't remember my human life," she said. "Or the first thirty years of my vampire life."

"Thirty years?" I gasped. "How is that possible?"

"We don't know." Edward said. "Carlisle has never seen anything like it, and he's been studying our kind's physiology since he was turned."

"He didn't know about the bleeds," I pointed out.

"True. But that's no reason to doubt what he does know. The fact that Esme's been alive four times longer than the rest of us combined doesn't mean that Carlisle doesn't have a tremendous amount of experience in his own right." Edward said.

"What do you think the others are doing?" I asked. I tried not to sound too worried.

"Carlisle wanted to lead the tracker as far north as possible, wait for him to get close, and then turn and ambush him. He was hoping to get enough reinforcements to lead the female west, to separate them." Jasper said. "I imagine things are going well, they haven't called yet."

The phone rang.


	20. Chapter 20: Phoenix

20. PHOENIX

We sat in the Phoenix airport. We had left our hotel immediately after the call that they had lost James' trail. Sitting in the Las Vegas airport for so many hours had been agonizing, though it was a miracle we had gotten into the building without anyone noticing the vampires I was traveling with. They had worn hooded shirts and sunglasses until entering the building, after which they were no longer in direct light and looked no more out of place than they normally would.

Our flight had finally taken us out, and after we arrived, I found a spot to sit in the food court. I was starving, and I hated to make the Cullens wait, but we didn't have anywhere to go, yet. Edward and Jasper had gone to see about finding a place to stay to wait, somewhere easily secured. Alice chattered at the table while I ate.

She suddenly sat straight up, her hand on her forehead.

"Alice?" I asked. "Are you okay?!"

She took a breath, her eyes dropping to my face. "I saw something." She said.

"A vision? What was it?"

"It was only a partial vision…" she blinked in confusion. "That has never happened before. All I saw was a room full of mirrors. There was nothing else. I couldn't even see the entire room."

I didn't know what to say. She gave me a look that suddenly edged on suspicious. "I'm sitting by you." She said. "You… have an effect on us. Your proximity must have distorted the vision."

I blinked, concerned. I had a different thought than Alice did, and I didn't want to voice it. Perhaps she couldn't see the whole scene because it was about me. What if she only picked up on part of it because I was there, in the vision?

"I have an idea." I said. Alice's eyebrows drew together. "I need to go to the bathroom. You stay here. Maybe if I leave, you'll be able to get the vision more clearly."

It was worth a shot, right?

"That seems risky…" Alice said. It was at that moment that Jasper and Edward returned to the table.

"Edward can come with me." I said. "He can wait by the bathroom and Jasper can stay here with you."

"What's going on?" Edward asked.

"Alice had a partial vision. She couldn't get all of it because I'm here. If she stays here and I go, maybe she'll get the whole thing." I said.

They agreed.

I went into the bathroom, leaving Edward guarding the door. I did my business, taking a moment to gather my bearings after I left the stall. I had gotten lost in this very bathroom before, because it had two exits. It was situated in the largest terminal in the airport, where most flights landed, and it was the most confusing area of the airport if you were unfamiliar with the layout of the building. When I stood in front of the mirror, washing my hands and splashing my face, my phone vibrated. I checked the screen. It was my mother.

"Bella? Bella?" It was a familiar tone I had heard a thousand times in my childhood, anytime I'd gotten too close to the edge of the sidewalk or strayed out of her sight in a crowded place. It was the sound of panic. My first thought was that Charlie was beginning to panic, and had called my mother to tell her I was missing. But that didn't make sense… he hadn't tried to call me, yet. He was probably still at work. So what was going on?

"Mom?"

"Be very careful not to say anything until I tell you to." The voice I heard now was as unfamiliar as it was unexpected. It was a man's tenor voice, a very pleasant, generic voice – the kind of voice that you heard in the background of luxury car commercials. He spoke very quickly.

"I don't need to hurt your mother. Do exactly as I say, and she will be fine." He paused for a moment while I listened in mute horror. "That's very good," he said. "If there are vampires in your presence, say 'that's okay'. If there are not, say 'no'. If I have even an indication that you are lying to me – and I have ways to find out – I will kill her. And then I'll kill you."

My heart hammered in my throat. "No." I said.

"Are you able to leave without your bodyguards detecting it? 'Yes' or 'no'."

I tried to swallow my fear, my eyes darting toward the door Edward stood outside. Then I turned my eyes toward the other end of the bathroom, where the other exit was. Sky Harbor International Airport: crowded, confusingly laid out, and I knew it better than the Cullens did. Even now, people milled around me in the bathroom, unconcerned with me. The noise would be enough on its own that Edward would never know I had left. If I left, I would almost certainly die. But he had my mother.

"Yes." I said.

"Excellent. You must know enough about our kind by now to realize how quickly I would know if you tried to bring anyone along with you. And how little time I would need to deal with your mother if that was the case. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"This is what you have to do. I want you to go to your mother's house. Next to the phone, there will be a number. Call it and I'll tell you where to go from there."

"How did you get my mother? Where's Phil?" I asked desperately.

"Do not speak without my permission." He snarled on the other end. "You do not get to ask questions. You get to answer them. Do you understand what you have to do?"

"Yes." I answered obediently, bile in my mouth.

"Repeat after me: I love you, Mom. I'll see you soon."

"I love you, Mom. I'll see you soon." I could feel the tears starting. My voice was thick.

"Goodbye, Bella. I'll see you soon." He hung up.

I held the phone against my ear, beginning to shake. A woman near me gave me a concerned look, and I quickly composed myself, sticking my phone back in my bag. I knew I had to think, but my head was filled with the sound of my mother's panic. Seconds ticked by while I fought for control. I needed to plan. There was no way to bargain; the tracker had my mother, and he would not stop until he got me. I was a blind spot on Edward, Jasper and Alice's radars – they could not track me down if I ran now. It would be several minutes at least before Edward started to worry about me, and longer still before they could follow my trail out of the airport. After that, who knew how long it would take them, without anyone to read from? How would they know that I needed help?

Suddenly, I had an idea. Something that James apparently hadn't thought of. I yanked my notepad out of my bag.

_ EDWARD, JASPER AND ALICE-_

_ I'm so sorry that I left the airport. I know how dangerous this is,_

_ but he has my mother. He called me on my cellphone. I heard_

_ her voice, and he is holding her hostage. He told me to leave_

_ you and go to my mother's house, and call the number he_

_ left by the phone. He said he would tell me where to meet him_

_ from that number. I am going to do it. Follow me._

_ I love you, Edward._

_ BELLA_

I ran my hands all over the sheet, and although some of the women in the bathroom gave me strange looks, I could not be bothered by their reactions. I knew what they did not – that the Cullens would be able to smell me on the letter. I wrote 'ALICE CULLEN' on the blank, folded surface. It was most likely that Edward would send her in to see what was taking me so long. I placed it by the mirror, and set my cellphone on top of it. I didn't want to have to reject Edward's calls, and I didn't want James to be able to get Edward's number from it and call him. I also thought that if I left the phone on top of the paper, people would be less likely to throw it away, thinking that it belonged to someone in one of the stalls.

I took a deep breath, and walked out through the farther exit. Outside the far door, it was only a short sprint to the elevators. If Edward stayed where I had left him, I would never be in his line of sight. I didn't look behind me as I ran. This was my only chance, and even if he saw me, I had to keep going. People glanced at me as I ran past, but I figured that people were late for flights often enough that it wasn't such an unusual sight.

Around the corner, the elevators were waiting, and I dashed forward, throwing my hand between the closing doors of a full elevator headed down. I squeezed in beside the irritated passengers, and checked to make sure that the button for level one had been pushed. It was already lit. The doors closed.

As soon as the door opened I was off again, and I ignored the annoyed murmurs from behind me. I slowed myself as I passed the security guards by the luggage carousels, only to break into a run again as the exit doors came into view. I had no way of knowing if the Cullens were looking for me yet. I didn't have my phone with me, so I didn't know how long it had been. It felt like a long time.

I jumped out the automatic doors, nearly smacking into the glass when they opened more slowly than me. I had no time. Edward was either about to realize I was missing and send Alice in, or it had already happened. They would find me easily if I wasn't gone by then.

A shuttle to the Hyatt was just closing its doors a few feet behind me.

"Wait!" I called, running, waving at the driver.

"You need to go to the Hyatt?" The driver said, making sure I wasn't confused. I panted, and gestured toward my duffel bag.

"Yes," I huffed. "That's where I'm going." I hurried into the vehicle.

Most of the seats were empty. I sat as far from the other passengers as I could, and watched out the window as the airport vanished behind me. I couldn't help imagining Edward, where he would stand at the edge of the road when he found the end of my trail. It would take them more time to track down my mother's address. I couldn't cry yet, I told myself. I still had a long way to go. I had thought about leaving my address for them, but I needed to get there before they did. If they got there first, everything would be ruined.

My luck held. In front of the Hyatt, a tired-looking couple was getting their suitcase out of the trunk of a cab. I jumped out of the shuttle and ran to the cab, sliding into the seat behind the driver. The shuttle driver stared at me.

I told the surprised cabbie my mother's address. "I need to get there as soon as possible."

"That's in Scottsdale," he complained.

I threw four twenties over the seat. It was the last of my car money. "Will that be enough?"

"Sure, kid. No problem."

I sat back against the seat, folding my arms across my lap. The familiar city began to rush around me, but I didn't look out the windows. I exerted myself to maintain control. I was determined not to lose myself at this point, now that my plan was almost completed. There was no reason to indulge in more terror. My path was set. I just had to follow it.

So, instead of panicking, I closed my eyes and spent the twenty minute drive with Edward.

I imagined that he was with me, in the car, as he had been a thousand times over the past few weeks. I visualized how he would lean over to kiss me, to brush his fingers through my hair. I imagined his smile. His laugh. His inexplicable love of fifties music, his inexplicable love of me. I wondered where we would be driving. I wondered if Edward had ever seen the Grand Canyon. It was only four hours from Scottsdale, and we had gone there on a school trip once. I knew he would love it. Maybe we could go at night, so he didn't have to worry.

I imagined us together, in the years to come. I imagined us starting our own family, somehow. I could see us married, one day, living together. I could see a framed photo of his mother on a table with photos of my parents. We could have cats. I imagined listening to all his records. I imagined sharing all my favorite films with him. I imagined going on vacations. We could go to some remote place, somewhere with a beach. We could lie in the sun together. I could see us by the shore, in the water. I could teach him the rudimentary surfing skills I had learned during my vacations in California with my father, and he would do far better than I ever had. I imagined making a life with him.

In all my imaginings, we were the same age. I wasn't sure if it was because I was resigned to die, or if it was because I wanted to be turned into what he was. It didn't seem to matter, at the moment. I could see his face so clearly now… almost hear his voice. And, despite all the horror and hopelessness I was heading toward, I was fleetingly happy.

"Hey, what was the number?"

The cabbie's question punctured my fantasy, letting all the images fade. Fear, bleak and hard, was waiting to fill the empty space they left behind.

"5821." My voice was strangled. The cabbie gave me a concerned look, but said nothing. "Thank you."

There was no need to be afraid, I reminded myself. The house was empty. I had to hurry; my mom was waiting for me, frightened, depending on me. I ran to the door, pulling my keys from my bag and fumbling with them. I got the key into the deadbolt only to discover it was unlocked.

It was dark inside, empty, normal. I ran to the phone, turning on the kitchen light on my way. There, on the whiteboard, was a ten-digit number written by the red dry-erase pen that was attached by a cord. My fingers trembled as I put the number into the keypad, carefully pressing each button in turn. I held the phone to my ear. It rang only once.

"Hello, Bella. That was very quick. I'm impressed."

"Is my mom alright?"

"She's perfectly fine." He said, though the comment was punctuated by my mother's voice shouting something unintelligible. The low chuckle it drew from her captor sent chills through me. "Well, she'll survive, anyway. As long as you didn't bring anyone with you."

"I'm alone."

"Very good. Now, do you know the ballet studio around the corner from your home?"

My heart stopped. The mirrored room in Alice's vision. It was the ballet studio I had taken lessons at as a small child, lessons that had ended early.

"Yes." I said. "I know how to get there."

"Well, then. I'll see you very soon."

I hung up. I erased the number on the board and wrote 'BALLET STUDIO' in its place.

I ran from the room, through the door, into the baking heat. There was no time to look back at my house, and I didn't want to remember it as it was now… empty. The last person to walk through those doors was James. My murderer.

I felt so slow, like I was running through wet sand. I couldn't seem to get enough purchase from the concrete. I tripped several times, once falling, catching myself with my hands on the sidewalk. I ignored the scraped palms to continue running. The sun felt too hot, too bright, compared to the misty world I'd left behind in Washington. I felt dangerously exposed.

There was a handwritten sign on the door. The studio was closed for spring break. I touched the handle, tugging cautiously. The door was unlocked.

The lobby was silent, an oasis after the frantic run. I could hear the air conditioner thrumming. The plastic molded chairs were stacked against the wall. The carpet smelled like shampoo. The lights were off, and the blinds were drawn on the floor. There was a beam of light coming from the office, through a crack where the door was partially open.

Terror seized me so strongly that I couldn't move.

"Bella! Run!" My mother's voice shouted. The panic from earlier had been replaced by something else, something animal. "Run, Bella!"

I was jolted back into the memory of a dream I'd had about Edward, a thousand years ago. I ran toward the door, throwing it open. She was tied to a chair. I could see blood on her hands and her shirt, and her face was swelling with bruises. She looked at me with wild eyes, before her gaze drifted to look beyond where I stood. She screamed.

I whipped around, confronting my tracker. He was standing very still, a look of achievement on his face. A manic smile crossed his features, and for a moment I thought he was going to laugh.

"I am so glad you didn't bring reinforcements!" He said. "It's so much better this way, don't you think? No one to witness your final moments… the experience for me alone…" He looked toward my mother. "And her, of course. But I think we both know that I was planning to kill her, anyway."

My eyes widened in horror. My desperate hope was that Edward and his family would be here, soon. Even if I could not save her, maybe they could.

"Strange, you don't seem angry at all that I tricked you. Some people are, you know. They yell at me, curse me. They think they can intimidate me!" He did laugh, then, loudly. It echoed hollowly through the room. "They think they can bully me into releasing them. It would be sad if it wasn't so funny."

"I'm not angry." I said. It felt almost like I was watching the scene happen to someone else, as if I were outside my own body.

"No," his smile eased. "No, you're scared. Aren't you?"

I didn't say anything. I could hear my mother weeping behind me. I needed to find a way – a way to stall him, at least.

"I can't believe how easy this was." He said. He almost looked disappointed. "I expected a bigger challenge. You spending time with vampires, you should know more about how we work. You – you just…" He face twisted into a sneer. "You ruined all the fun for me!"

I stepped back, toward my mother. He looked angry now, as if it were truly my fault that he wasn't enjoying catching me.

"You humans, you're so predictable!" He snarled. "Oh, you're afraid for your _mother_! All I had to do was take her, no challenge at all! Everything I needed to catch you was in a god damned _office_, it's disgusting!"

That's how he'd done it. He'd broken into the school office, taken my records. I wondered if he had killed anyone to get them, or if he'd gone in the night. I hoped no one had died.

"God! The only consolation is that, after I kill you – and her – " He gestured toward my mother with no glimmer of interest. "At least I know your boyfriend will come. That'll be a _real_ challenge. He'll be more challenge than a _filing cabinet_."

He stepped toward me, then, the intent plain on his face. I felt a curl of nausea in the pit of my stomach as he spoke. What could I do? What should I do?

"Do you know, I nearly stole a human from another vampire once, long ago? He did what your boyfriend was too weak to do. He turned her, he ruined my game. Do you have any idea what it feels like, to lose something like that? _Do you_? And there she was, there in that meadow! She didn't even recognize me! That's when I knew, I knew it had to be you. It had come full circle. But you made it _so easy. _I can't believe !"

"Alice." I breathed.

"Unlike her, you _won't_ get away. Maybe I'll turn your mother, though." He leered at her. She wailed softly, not understanding what was happening. "She was the one victim who escaped me. The only one. You won't be so lucky."

His eyes were on me, again. Then his hand reached out and caressed my face, the cool touch sending the wave of horror that I had never felt with Edward, the horror he seemed to expect from me. I stumbled backward, breaking the contact.

He seemed surprised. "Curious… you didn't…" He blinked. His grin returned. "You're immune to my glamor! How bizarre!"

There was pain coming, I could see it in his eyes. "We'll just have to do it the old fashioned way." He said. "It's unfortunate, for you, it will be very painful. It will be gorgeous for me, though. I haven't seen one of your kind die unwillingly since I was a human!"

I tried to run back into the office, knowing even then that it was pointless. I could not escape him, I'd seen the way the Cullens could move. He was in front of me in a flash. I didn't see if he used his hand or his foot, it was too fast. A crushing blow struck my chest – I felt myself flying backward, and then heard the crunch of my head hitting the wall. I was too stunned to feel the pain. I couldn't breathe yet. As if it were very far away, I could hear my mother screaming.

He walked toward me very slowly. He was talking, saying something, but I didn't care what he had to say. Not enough to fight the dizziness and disorientation. I was still dazed from the impact. I ignored him, scrambling on my hands and knees, crawling toward my mother.

My determination to reach her seemed to amuse him. He watched me crawl toward her for several seconds. His face held a look of curiosity, unable to understand why I hadn't given up. Unable to understand what could drive me to work so hard to get to my mother, to protect her.

I was nearly at the door when he grew tired of watching. He was over me, his foot stepping down hard on my leg. I heard the sickening snap before I felt it. But then I did feel it, and I couldn't hold back my scream of agony. My mother was screaming too, it seemed she had been screaming forever, crying my name, the sounds echoing brutally in the long, empty room.

But I was there, at the doorway. In a flash I knew what I had to do. It was my only chance. I was close enough; I wrapped my hands around the base of the lamp that sat just inside the doorway of the office. I pulled myself forward, knowing I would need the leverage.

He laughed again, smiling at my feeble movements. "What, you think you can fight me off with that?" He said. He tore it from my hands and snapped it in half, dropping the pieces on top of me.

I had only moments. The power had been cut from the lamp when he had broken the body in half, but the bulb would still be hot. I swung with all my strength, hitting him directly in the face. He laughed again as it shattered against him, not realizing what I was trying to do.

Then he screamed.

Edward had said that vampires were flammable. I hadn't known what it would look like, what it would sound like, what it would smell like. Those were things I had never wanted to imagine, much less experience. But I did. The light bulb had shattered against his skin, and the still-red filament had trailed along James' cheek. Within seconds he was completely engulfed in flames; running, rolling, trying to put it out. He couldn't do it, the fire was too large, too encompassing.

The last thing I saw before drifting off was him running in the opposite direction and falling, flames licking ever upward, reflected in mirror after mirror.


	21. Chapter 21: Ashes

21. ASHES

My eyes opened to a bright, white light. I was in an unfamiliar room, a white room. The wall beside me was covered in long vertical blinds; over my head, the glaring lights blinded me. I was propped up on a hard, uneven bed – a bed with rails. The pillows were flat and lumpy. There was a persistent beeping sound somewhere close by. I hoped that meant I was still alive. I didn't think death would be this uncomfortable.

My hands were twisted up with clear tubes, and something was taped across my face, under my nose. I lifted my hand to rip it off.

"No, you don't." Cool fingers caught my hand.

"Edward?" I turned my head slightly, and his exquisite face was just inches from mine, his chin resting against the railing on the bed. I realized that I was alive, a wave of elation and relief washing through me. "Oh, Edward! I'm so sorry!"

"Shh," he shushed me. "Everything's alright now. You need to rest."

My hand drifted to my head, memories flooding back. "My mother!" I gasped.

"She's fine, Bella. Just cuts and bruises. You're the one who got hurt."

"What… what happened? How..?"

"I was almost too late. I could have been too late." He said, his voice tormented. "The studio was on fire."

"You went into a burning building?" I asked, breathless.

"I could hear your mother screaming inside. You were unconscious."

"But you – you could have… the way he caught fire…"

"I know, but I made it out. We all did. It was crazy, I didn't even think about the fire. I just had to get to you."

"My dad… he'll be panicked…."

"Renee called him already. She told him that you came to surprise her for her birthday and that you were in a car accident together. Alice and Jasper planted a rental car, crashed it themselves. Rosalie knows computers, she broke into the rental agency's computer system to alter their records, and Emmett put your truck near the airport. So far it's all checked out, the police aren't going to investigate further."

"Her birthday isn't for two weeks." I said.

Edward laughed, but his voice was still weak with relief. "That's the part of the cover that most concerns you?" He asked. "She said Charlie never remembered her birthday, especially since they were married for such a short time."

"So… so she knows. About you."

"Yes, Bella." Edward said. "She knows about me, and my family. She already knew when we arrived. She said that the tracker… had said some things. And she saw what happened to him, when you set him on fire. How quickly it happened, how a burn on the skin consumed him in flames. She knew he wasn't human, and it seems he mentioned some things about us, as well."

I tried to sit up, but it was too difficult, so I just turned my head more fully to look at him. Something seemed off, different.

"Edward…" I said, before the shock hit. "Your eyes!"

Edward turned his head away sharply, trying to keep me from examining them. It was too late, though. I saw that they had changed.

They were red.

He cleared his throat, looking ashamed. "His mate must have been close by, because… he was already dead when we got inside, the whole place was on fire. But I began to feel very ill and then I started bleeding heavily. I drank the bag of blood that Carlisle made me carry. It turned out that I didn't even need it. James was already dead, and we never actually saw her. She must have come to try and save him, seen he was dead, and then run off rather than fight us."

"But Carlisle said… a relapse…"

"I am the only one who needs to worry about my self-control, Bella. You don't need to worry about it. I don't want to talk about the side-effects of what I did. You're safe, that's what matters."

My mother walked into the room, then. Edward looked up at her, and then turned his eyes away. He stood, pulling a pair of sunglasses from his pocket. "I'll give you two some privacy." He said, and walked out of the room.

My heart ached as he left, but when my mother walked over and took my hand, she was all I could think about.

"Mom," my voice broke. I tried not to cry. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, Mom."

"It's not your fault, Bella!" She said, tears already spilling from her eyes. "Bella… what I saw…"

"You can't tell anyone, you can't! Edward's whole family could be ruined if you do. I know, I know you don't have any reason to trust him, but please – I love him!" I said desperately.

She leaned over me, stroking my hair the way she had when I was a small child. I could hear her crying as she held me. "I'm not going to tell anyone, Bella." She said at last. "I do trust him. I saw what happened to the other one when you burned him… and that young man came into the fire for you. One spark could have killed him. He saved both our lives. I think the boy's in love with you."

I was crying freely, then, though I don't know whether they were tears of happiness or fear, or maybe just relief. All the emotions of the past two days were pouring out of me in a sloppy mess. "Mom, I was so scared," I finally said, sobbing. "I was so scared, Mom, I thought…"

"Shhh…" she said, kissing the top of my head. "I know, baby, I know," she murmured. "We're okay now. We're safe. It's over."

"I love you," I said.

"I love you too," she said. "You're grown up, and you're so strong. I never knew how strong you are. You were so brave, Bella. I'm so, so proud of you."

She pulled back, then, wiping the tears from her face. I sniffled. "What were you doing back home?" I asked. "Where's Phil?"

"Florida – oh, Bella! Just when we were about to leave, the best news!"

"Phil got signed?"

"Yes! The Suns, can you believe it? We went out to celebrate and I cracked a tooth in the restaurant, I came home to have Dr. Wyatt fix it."

"There aren't dentists in Florida?" I laughed a bit, wiping my eyes.

"Bella, I can't go to a dentist I don't _know_!"

"Yeah, something _bad_ might happen," I said. We both laughed. It was all we could do, now that the terror was over.

"By the way, I'm upset you didn't tell me you had such good friends in Forks!" She said, laughing through her tears. "Tell me about your boyfriend!"

...

Edward held my hand, helping me into the wheelchair the hospital had provided to take me to the car. When I was settled, he began pushing me toward the door, where my mother was bringing her car around. She was going to drive us to the airport.

"Edward…" I said as we rolled through the hall.

"Yes?"

"Why did you refuse to change me?" I asked. "I know that, if you had, James would have just gone onto someone else. I'm not saying I wanted that to happen, but… why were you so against the idea of changing me?"

Edward had the advantage of being behind me. I tried to look up at him, but the angle made it impossible to tell what he was feeling, especially with the sunglasses he wore to conceal his red eyes.

"I'll be the first to admit that I have no experience with relationships," I said. "But don't you think… in a relationship, you have to be equals?"

"You are my equal!" He protested. "I treat you as my equal, don't I?"

"I know you do, but that's not what I mean. How we interact together isn't the problem. It's external. I can't just rely on you to swoop in and save me all the time. Other people have already gotten hurt because of us. My mother, Tyler…"

I could feel him tense up.

"Physically, I can't defend myself against a vampire, Edward. I got lucky this time, but what if something happens in the future? And… you live in a different world than I do. When I'm around you, I become a temptation to all the vampires that surround you, strangers and family alike. I just think it would be better for everyone, if I wasn't human."

"It wouldn't be better for you." Edward said. "This isn't something you do for convenience! It would destroy your human life. You couldn't be around your friends, your family. Your family, Bella! Your mother and father!"

"My mother knows about you. About us. And I could tell my dad, we could find a way. I could be around them, I think…"

"You don't know what you're asking, Bella." Edward said.

"I think I do."

"No, you don't! You don't know. I've had decades to think about this and I'm still not sure! You can't understand how it changes you, it changes who you are."

"Do you wish Carlisle hadn't saved you?"

"For a long time, yes, I did! The only reason I changed my mind is _you_, Bella."

"Esme said – "

"Of course she did," he muttered angrily. "Of course. It's different for Esme, Bella. She hasn't been a human for over four thousand years. She _chose_ what she is, it's different!"

"It would be my choice, too, Edward." I said softly.

"I can't, Bella. I won't."

"What if, instead of you, one of the others did it? Would that be better?" I asked.

"Don't ask them to! You can't do that, no. It's dangerous and you just, you don't understand what you're asking."

"I'll die, Edward. Eventually, I will die. It could be days, months, _years_ from now, but it's going to happen."

Edward said nothing.

"Don't you want to spend your life with me?" I asked.

"Of course I do." Edward said. "But not like that."

"The problem, Edward, is that your life will go on for centuries after mine ends. What will you do when I die? I can spend my entire life with you, but what happens to you after I die?"

"I don't know!" He said, his tone angry. "I'm not talking about this anymore. I won't do it."

I didn't say anything for a long time, and he pushed my wheelchair into the elevator.

"Are you angry?" He asked as the elevator started moving.

"Yes." I said.

"I'm sorry."

I swallowed. "The only reason you're saying 'no' is because you wish you were still human."

"Of course I do!" Edward said. "I don't understand why you think that your life is so worthless."

"I don't think it's worthless, Edward. It's just… keeping me human, it won't give you your human life back."

"I didn't say that it would."

"But that's what you feel, that's why you don't want to do it. You think keeping me human will somehow bring you back to what you lost. It's impossible. You can't be human, again. But I can be a vampire. I can become like you, and we can be together. Forever."

"Your life is how it's supposed to be. People are supposed to grow old, they're _supposed_ to die."

"But you can't have that, Edward!" I said. "You can't have it. And I don't want it."

"I refuse to change you into a monster, Bella."

I didn't push any farther, because we were at the car. I didn't want to have the argument in front of my mother. Edward helped me into the car, and we headed toward the airport.

...

We sat in my living room. My dad had fussed over me endlessly when I'd first arrived, and in fact he hadn't even seemed angry that I had lied to him. I'd told him again and again how sorry I was, and he'd always said the same thing, "Bella, I'm just glad you're okay."

It had taken awhile for my memories to come back fully. We'd been home for over two weeks before I remembered some of the more confusing things that James had said in that ballet studio.

Edward had been very careful in being around my dad. He'd been wearing contact lenses that colored his eyes nearly black, but it seemed he had to get new ones every few days. He wouldn't talk about it, nor would he talk about how he was doing with his relapse. I wondered how long it would take for his eyes to return to the gold color I loved.

We hadn't talked again about turning me, not yet. So much had happened after I'd arrived home in my walking cast, with all the cuts and bruises from the fight I'd been in. I'd spent a lot of time at Edward's house, getting more comfortable with his family.

"Edward," I said, my mind distracted from the movie we were watching. "I wanted to tell you something."

He looked at me with a cautious expression. My tone must have worried him. "Yes?"

"The tracker… he said something to me at the studio. I didn't know if I should tell you, but I think you should know. He said something about Alice."

His eyebrows drew together. "Alice?" He asked.

"He told me that he'd tried to take a human from a vampire once before and that she'd gotten away, because the vampire had changed her. He said he saw her in the meadow and she didn't even recognize him. He said she was the only one who'd ever gotten away from him."

He was silent for a long moment. "I wasn't sure… if I should tell, because it's so horrible." I said. "What should we do?"

He wet his lips, turning his eyes back toward the television. "I don't know." He said.

"She deserves to know," I said.

"But I don't know if she'd want to." He added.

"Exactly." I shrugged. "You know her better than I do, of course. It's probably better for you to decide what to do."

"I'll think about it." He said. He leaned over and kissed me briefly. "I'll let you know when I decide what to do."

...

Edward and I went to prom together, even with my walking cast. I wasn't able to dance very easily, but it didn't seem to bother Edward at all. Anyway, he seemed to have grace enough for the both of us. It seemed so effortless for him, and I was surprised to realize that I was actually enjoying myself. Of course, the enjoyment was after an excruciating day with Alice, who had trapped me in her bathroom to get my clothes, makeup and hair in order before the event. Still, being with Edward made up for it.

It was nice to see Tyler, too. He'd had yet another surgery on his knee, so we had matching casts. I did feel bad that he was still recovering from the crash in the parking lot; it felt so long ago. Everyone at school had heard the story that Edward and my mother had come up with to explain my injuries, so Tyler and I commiserated on the effects that cars could have on the human body. Mike and Jessica had been thrilled to see me at the dance, and Angela was shy around the Cullens but pulled me aside to tell me how beautiful I looked.

I excused myself from my friends when I saw Edward turn, staring toward the doors with a pensive look on his face. As I got closer to him, it turned closer to anger than apprehension.

"What is it?" I wondered. I followed his gaze, disoriented by the music and movement in the gym. But I could finally see what was bothering him. Jacob Black, not in a tux, but in a long-sleeved white shirt and tie, his hair smoothed back into his usual ponytail, was crossing the floor toward us.

After the first shock of recognition, I couldn't help but feel bad for Jacob. He was clearly uncomfortable – excruciatingly so – and his face was apologetic as his eyes met mine. I was shocked at Edward's reaction, a low growl coming from his throat.

"What's the matter with you?" I asked, upset with him.

"He wants to chat with you." Edward's voice was scathing.

Jacob reached us then, the embarrassment and apology even more evident on his face.

"Hey, Bella. I was hoping you'd be here." Jacob sounded like he'd been hoping the exact opposite, but his smile was just as warm as ever.

"Hi, Jacob." I smiled back. "What's up?"

"Can I cut in?" he asked tentatively, glancing at Edward for the first time. I was stunned to notice he didn't have to look up. Jacob must have grown half a foot since the last time I'd seen him.

Edward's face was composed, his expression blank. His only answer was to take a step back. I saw Jasper walking over, taking hold of Edward's arm and pulling him away to speak quietly with him. He must have sensed Edward's inexplicable anger.

"Thanks," Jacob said amiably. He put his hands on my waist, and I put my hands on his shoulders.

"Wow, Jake, how tall are you now?"

"Six-two," he said, smiling with a hint of pride.

We weren't really dancing – my leg made that impossible. Instead we swayed awkwardly from side to side without moving our feet. It was just as well; the recent growth spurt had left him looking gangly and uncoordinated, he was probably no better a dancer than I was.

"So, how did you end up here tonight?" I asked. Edward's reaction was still confusing to me.

"My dad made me come," he said. "I guess I shouldn't say _made_… he… strongly encouraged me. And he gave me twenty bucks to come." He looked abashed.

"Well, I hope you're enjoying yourself, at least." I said. "Seen anyone you like?" I nodded toward a group of girls lined up against the wall, looking like pastel confections.

"Yeah," he said. He looked away, embarrassed. "But she's taken."

I blushed, dropping my eyes.

"You look really pretty, by the way," he added shyly.

"Thanks," I said. "Why do you think Billy paid you to come here?"

Jacob didn't seem grateful for the subject change; he looked away, uncomfortable again. "He said it was a 'safe' place to talk to you. I swear he's losing his mind." He gave an uncomfortable laugh, I tried to join in.

"He said that if I told you something, he would get me that master cylinder I need," he confessed with a sheepish grin.

"Tell me, then. Anything to help you with your car." I grinned back. At least Jacob didn't believe any of this. It made the situation easier, if only slightly. Against the wall, Edward was watching my face, his own completely expressionless.

"Don't get mad, okay?"

I looked back to Jacob. "There's no way I'll be mad at you, Jacob." I assured him. "I won't even be mad at Billy. Just say what you have to."

"Well – this is so stupid, I'm sorry, Bella – he wants you to break up with your boyfriend. He asked me to tell you 'please'." He shook his head in disgust.

"He's still got a thing against the Cullens, huh?"

"Yeah. He was… kind of over the top when you got hurt in Phoenix. He didn't believe…" Jacob trailed off self-consciously.

"I got in a car crash." My eyes narrowed.

"I know that," Jacob said quickly. "But he thought – he didn't know how Edward got there so fast, found out about it. He thought…"

"He thinks Edward had something to do with me getting hurt." Despite my promise, I did feel angry. At Billy, anyway.

Jacob wouldn't meet my eyes. We weren't even bothering to sway to the music anymore, though his hands were still on my waist, and mine around his neck.

"Look, Jacob. I know Billy probably won't believe this, but just so you know – " he looked at me now, responding to my earnestness. "– Edward didn't cause my injuries. I promise you. And between you and I, Edward saved my life. My mom's, too. He…" I didn't know what to say. "He was in Phoenix already, with me, and he saw the accident. He pulled us out of the car. We didn't tell anyone because I was afraid of what my dad would think if he knew Edward went with me, he'd think…"

"He'd think something happened," Jacob gave me an embarrassed smile, understanding my trepidation.

"Right. I don't want him to know that Edward was there with me. Please don't tell Billy, either. But Edward saved us. If it weren't for him, I'd be dead."

"Okay." He said. It sounded like my sincere words had affected him some. Maybe he'd be able to convince Billy of Edward's innocence, at least.

"Hey, I'm sorry you had to come do this, Jacob," I apologized. "At any rate, you get your parts, right?"

"Yeah," he muttered. But he still looked uncomfortable.

"…There's more?" I asked in disbelief.

"Forget it," he mumbled. "I'll get a job, get the money myself."

"Just tell me, Jacob. It's okay."

"It's so bad."

"Tell me," I insisted.

"Okay… but, geez, this sounds bad." He shook his head. "He said to tell you, no, to _warn_ you that – and these are his words, not mine – " he lifted one hand from my waist and mimed question marks with his fingers. "'We'll be watching'."

He watched me warily. It sounded like something from a mafia movie, and I couldn't help but laugh aloud.

"Sorry you had to do this, Jake," I said.

"I don't mind _that_ much," He grinned in relief. "Anytime I get to see you…" He shrugged. "Should I tell him you said to butt the hell out?"

"No," I said. "Tell him I said thanks. I know he means well."

The song ended and I dropped my arms. His hands hesitated at my waist, and he glanced at my cast. "Do you want to dance again? Or can I help you get somewhere?"

Edward answered from behind me. "That's alright, Jacob. I'll take it from here."

Jacob jumped at the same time I did. Neither of us had noticed Edward coming up to us. Jacob stared wide-eyed at Edward.

"I didn't see you there," Jacob said. "I guess I'll see you around, Bella." He stepped back, waving half-heartedly.

I smiled. "Yeah, I'll see you later."

"Sorry," he said again before he turned for the door.

Edward's arms wrapped around me as the next song started. The next song had started, an up-tempo one that I wouldn't be able to dance to in my cast. It didn't seem to bother Edward. I leaned my head against him, automatically, but I was still reserved about his behavior.

"Feeling better?" I asked.

"Not really."

"Don't be mad at Billy," I sighed. "He just worries about me for Charlie's sake. It's nothing personal."

"It _is_ personal. But I'm not mad at Billy." His voice was clipped. "I don't like his son."

I pulled back to look at him. His face was very serious.

"Why?"

He didn't seem to know how to articulate his feelings. "He called you pretty," he finally said, his frown deepening.

"You're jealous? After everything?" I asked skeptically.

"It's not that, exactly," he said. "I… don't know. There's something about him. I don't trust that kid."

"Well, you'll have to get over that." I said. "He's my friend."

Edward's mouth set in a hard line.

"Come on," I said, taking his hand, my voice softening. "Let's go for a walk."

He eyed my leg skeptically, but we moved outside. We walked across the dark grounds until I began to feel tired. We sat down on a bench beneath the shadow of the madrone trees. He sat there, keeping me cradled against his chest. The moon was already up, visible through the gauzy clouds, and his face glowed pale in the white light.

"Twilight again," he murmured. "Another ending. No matter how perfect the day is, it always has to end."

I laughed. "So dramatic," I said. He wrinkled his nose at me, but I could see the smile beneath his expression. "You know, you could be a writer, maybe. Be a recluse writer like Salinger, never meeting fans or editors in person. That's a career you could have without anyone knowing you don't age."

"What, we're giving up on track star?" He asked, grinning.

I took a deep breath, looking up at the stars that were beginning to come out at last. Edward looked up with me.

"Why did you want to come to prom, Edward? It doesn't seem like the kind of thing you'd be interested in."

He gave me a strange look. "I wanted to come for you, Bella." He said. "I want you to have every experience a human should have. I don't want you to regret missing things because of what I am. It's important for me that you can enjoy all the things a normal couple would do. I want your life to continue as it would if I had died when I was supposed to."

I frowned. "You weren't supposed to die," I said. "If you were supposed to, you would have. "

"You're wrong."

"_You're_ wrong, Edward." I said, trying to keep my tone gentle. "People don't get to decide what is or isn't supposed to happen. You just have to trust that things turn out the way they are meant to. I know you have suffered a lot because of… of what you are. But that doesn't mean you aren't supposed to be here."

He said nothing. "You're trying to get me to agree to... you know," he accused.

"I'm not." I said. "I just want you to understand, there is nothing wrong about you being here. And to be fair, if you hadn't brought me, I probably _wouldn't_ have come to prom."

I pulled his arm over my shoulder, squeezing his fingers. He relaxed against me.

"But I'm ready, whenever you are." I said softly.

He was quiet for a moment. "You're ready now, then?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Right now?" His breath was in my ear, and I shivered involuntarily.

"Yes." I whispered, so my voice wouldn't break. I'd already made the decision, and I was sure. It didn't matter that my heart was hammering, my breathing erratic.

"I'll stay with you, isn't that enough?"

"I want to stay with you, too. Forever."

He chuckled darkly. He leaned down to press his cool lips against my throat.


End file.
